


Of Kingdoms, Magics and Assassins

by Green_Tea_Leaves, Matcha_Fox (Green_Tea_Leaves)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Domestic Fluff, Fix it AU, Fluff, M/M, OT4, slow burn i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Tea_Leaves/pseuds/Green_Tea_Leaves, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Tea_Leaves/pseuds/Matcha_Fox
Summary: What happens when two events— completely unrelated to one another, take place at the same time in parallel dimensions?Time Travel, according to Noctis, and his entourage.Isu Bullshit, according to Desmond, and his tag-along.
Relationships: Clay Kaczmarek | Subject 16/Desmond Miles, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 141
Kudos: 288





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Little (hopefully not) Fix it Fic cause I'M SALTY about Desmond's death.  
> And Clay's  
> And Noctis' death.  
> And Ardyn's, Ravus', Regis', and just a lot of them.  
> Also my first (published) fic!  
> I am utterly scared of posting it but fuck it.

"All I'm sayin' _Seventeen,_ is that usually for— you know, _normal_ human beings— a five year old setting on fire a bunch of scientists was clearly bound to raise alarms" Clay pointed the last bit waving his chubby toddler arm in the general direction of a _red blaring alarm._

 _"_ And all I'm sayin' _Sixteen,_ is that five year olds usually don't know how to hack alien tech doors and yet here we are— so why don't you hurry on that while I figure what to do with _this_ " _this_ being Desmond's hand which is currently on fire "Also I was trained to murder before I knew how to write and _you know it_ "

Their voices were so high pitched they had deafened each other when they woke confused and screaming and in _pain_ from a head splitting headache.

"Yes and this wasn't were you learnt it— burn this one and this one— there, now just lemme try this—"

Said fire was harmless apparently unless— say, Desmond hurled it at a bunch of mad scientists when they were trying to rip off his arm while he was very much alive and conscious and in the body of a _child_. Or burning cables so close to Clay's hand.

But totally harmless other than that, a hundred percent safe for children. Shiny gold too.

 _Right_.

"Open sesame" Clay chimed as the door let out a soft _hiss_ as it opened.

"Great, now let's get out" Desmond shoved a bunch of papers written in _very thick gibberish_ that Eagle Vision said were important and _shiny_ and Desmond's _goblin brain_ honestly went faster for the _shiny_ bit when he started grabbing them.

Most hallways had red lights going off and on, albeit slower than the ones in the room they had been in were. Also the actual alarm ringing wasn't as loud now so they were probably on the right track away from trouble.

_Yeah, no._

They ran into more guards which Desmond burned to a crisp when they actually _fired at them._ Who the fuck fires away at children no questions asked?

"Oh thank god one of them has bag, put out the fire so that we can shove whatever you grabbed" Clay walked around the fires and Desmond just sort of held up his hand and _lo' an' behold_ the fire just went back into his palm "Did you actually know you could do that or were you trying to shot fire to extinguish the fire?"

"The second one, not complaining though" Desmond went and tried to grab one of the guns but it proved too big for his tiny baby hands "Guess we will continue with fire then— wait gimme a sec— there" Desmond kinda thought something like _off_ and what do you know, no more fire.

"Glad that you figured that out so where to next? Anything on the magic radar?" Clay was already jogging up to meet up with him.

"Yes and no, all I know is that we are on the right track and there's _something somewhere_ that will not try to kill us this way" Desmond was walking faster now because that _something_ was close.

They— _Desmond_ — burn down some more guards and a _MECH '_ cause apparently _mechs are a thing here_ . And said thing is huge and all metal and has missile launchers on it's back and Desmond almost melts the thing because he didn’t know what _else to do_.

The green mech explodes when Desmond overheats the core, or so Clay says. And then there are guards pouring into the room and Desmond can now shoot _lightning_ too— which, _so cool—_ and manages to shock the guards into place so that he and Clay can get out.

After what feels like _miles_ in their tiny toddler legs they stop to rest at an actual _vending machine_ . Desmond hasn't seen one in _ages_ and thanks to the animus he could say _lifetimes_ . Clay probably isn't much better and between waking up in a lab with people trying to _maim_ them and then being on the run from people trying to _shoot_ them they hadn't really noticed how _starved_ and _dehydrated_ and how much their tiny everything hurt.

So with a bit of tinkering and some melted metal later they were sitting down behind a couch with a bunch of water bottles, sugary drinks and some chips and actual _uncooked instant noodles_ that they can't cook because Desmond fried the hot water tap that it _apparently_ had. 

The couch, they arranged with no small amount of difficulty so that it didn't look half out of place and they could eat while having some vague sense of safety and wouldn't be straight up pierced by bullets if they got found

So while Clay was rambling about how this place was like an abstergo facility on _Isu_ steroids and ancient sugary coffee, what with the ridiculous amount of armed folk and _mechs_ and what not, Desmond had half an ear on him so he wasn't getting it all and instead was looking at his arm. Which— was just _there_ . Being weird and possibly dangerous, but just _there_.

It had an eerie resemblance to the Apple, with the markings that seemed to glow every now and then but also seemed to be just awfully dull at the same time. It also had a— what? A _Schrödingery_ sort of color? Unless you looked at it it just seemed to wander from _light eating_ white to _light eating_ black. And even then it still seemed to flicker between the two. 

It also didn't reflect light so it looked weirdly 2D like it was trying to be real but failed _miserably_.

"Maybe your arm merged with the Apple, you know? And the Eye to top it off" Clay said from over Desmond's shoulder, his chin resting on it, while reaching out to pinch his arm with a focused look "Can you feel this?"

Desmond lifted his arm a bit while Clay kept a steady pressure on it, it looked like he was grabbing an arm shaped cut-out.

"I— sort of? I mean I know you're touching it— pinching it 'cause _I can see you pinching it_ but it feels dull somehow— like a white noise kind of feeling" It was weird and he shivered because even if he wasn't watching Clay pinch his arm he would _know Clay was pinching his arm even if it didn't feel like a pinch at all_.

So, Desmond decided not to think about the arm, let it come back to bite him in the ass he'll deal with it when they aren't being hunted in a _metal box_.

 _Speaking of which_.

Desmond felt a _tug_ in the back of his mind that made him tense and switch to Eagle Vision. Clay straightened up and tried to listen to whatever was coming because if Desmond was _tense_ then he should totally be tense too.

Desmond looked around until he felt the _tug_ change direction and he focused on that. So their _mission target_ was close and they were most likely running out of time.

"Sixteen time to move"

Clay yelped when he was suddenly grabbed by his wrist and barely had the mind to grab the bag filled with _whatever_ they had spent their time not walking around gathering. Being nothing sort of hauled along by Desmond he tried to concentrate on something other than _Desmond's very soft skin, in fact both of them had very soft skin now and_ — _And_ — yeah, _no,_ see that wall? _Time to focus on that wall_.

They walked so fast with Desmond just dragging him along and manhandling— _childhandling_ — him into hiding spots or empty rooms to evade the patrolling guards.

And it was all good until they stepped into a room and Desmond crouched them behind a large metal table and pushed a finger to his lips.

_And alright Sixteen time to keep it quiet 'cause there's something out there that Desmond won't or can't burn and— God they're so soft right now and yet Desmond is still so very much a master assassin and— and not the time to think about this—_

So while Clay was having an internal short circuit Desmond was peeking from the table to try and gauge the man in the room.

He was tall, probably taller than Desmond had been, had brown short hair and there was a hint of trimmed beard on him. He wore black everything, jacket, pants, boots. In contrast to their white sweater and pants and shoes and given that they hadn't seen anyone wear black so far. And black had no right to be as _flashy_ as it seemed right now.

On Eagle Vision he wasn't all _blue._ It was a shifting color between redish purple and sudden flashes of bright _red_ when footsteps or some noise crawled its way into the room.

He nearly didn't hear Clay whispering and tugging at his sleeve.

"Baby"

"What?" 

"Baby"

"Not now _Sixteen"_

" _Baby, Seventeen, baby"_ Clay was sharply tugging on his shirt now "Baby, Seventeen, there's a—"

Clay was interrupted by a loud, high pitched _cooing_ sound.

Desmond nearly gave himself whiplash from turning so fast. His eyes landed on a _blue_ _bundle_.

On the floor, right next to them, was a _baby_. 

With big blue violet eyes and a face that seemed engulfed by _freckles_ and a thin mat of bright blond hair. Stuffed into a white onesie, like their own ensemble, _It was staring at them._

Cooing increasingly _louder_.

Desmond turned back to the man only to find him standing right at the corner of the table, looking very close to red. And Desmond snapped out of Eagle Vision and got ready to— well _do something_.

And then he saw them. Light blue eyes widening in surprise before confusion, rage and _confusion again_ settled in. His hand that went to clutch at his— _katana,_ this man had a longass sword that certainly wasn't called a _katana_ but Desmond had no idea what it was, so for now it was going to be a katana— anyway, his hand relaxed his grip but didn't quite leave the handle.

The silence bordered _horrified_ and a lot of staring back and forth. The man's gaze went from Desmond's to Clay's before settling on the _baby_ that Clay had hauled close to him but was holding like a live grenade.

Desmond chanced a look in Eagle Vision and felt his own eyes widen. The man was blue mostly, sort of flickering into orange tones now and then but mostly blue now.

So Desmond did the only reasonable thing and stood up in front of Clay and the baby. Trying to make the most of his tiny self. 

Which— to the man it might have looked hilarious if not for the fact that his eyes settled on Desmond's _schrödingery_ arm and then he flickered in and out of colors before settling into a blue green shift, he might have just tried to _shock_ him too if he had gone red.

He did tense when the man crouched down to be on an even level with them but otherwise tried to keep his posture calm.

He couldn't stop the electric crackling that came from his arm when the man reached out, slowly and clearly trying to be non-threatening, but the man took the cue and pulled back his hand.

A high pitched cooing brought their attention into the baby that Clay was doing his best to smother with awkward rocking and soft shushing while looking at Desmond with wild panic in his eyes.

So Desmond had enough of unintentionally torturing Clay and it's about to take the clueless baby from him when a longer, thicker arm beats him to it.

"Here, let me" He spoke in a whisper but it didn't take the edge of his voice, deep and rough.

He didn't take the baby right away though, instead just shuffled closer with his arms stretched out.

Clay twitched and looked at him warily before shifting back to Desmond.

Desmond shrugged a nod and Clay didn't look any calmer but awkwardly passed the baby.

The man swallowed and almost as awkwardly shifted the baby in his arms.

His face too, shifted slightly and if Desmond didn't have three lifetimes of dealing with all types of people— the good, the bad, and _the Isu_ , he might have missed the slight panic in the man's face when he figured he had no clue as to how to hold a _human_ baby.

It took some more shifting before the man decided he could not, in fact, hold a baby and grabbed a blanket from somewhere and tried to make some sort of _baby sac_.

After the third— failed— attempt Desmond took the cloth from him and started to make knots here and there to make a _baby sling_.

At first, Desmond didn't know he _knew_ how to do it but apparently since Connor knew how to do it then Desmond _knows_ how to do it. So long it works that’s fine by him.

So Desmond fitted himself with it and held his arms up to the man.

Who was looking at him with a slight slacked jaw and wide eyes. He snapped out of it quickly and turned back to what seemed to be his default stern face before handing Desmond the baby.

So Desmond safely slings the baby onto his back. The little guy squirms a bit but eventually and, thankfully quietly, settles down.

The man opens and closes his mouth a couple of times and before he can work out whatever he wants to say, Desmond feels that tug in the back of his head again

Next thing Desmond is tugging down the man to the ground and Clay is holding onto him for dear life while the room is suddenly stormed by guards.

The clanking of boots against metal, the shuffling of weapons as they're handled this way or that.

The man looks at Desmond like he just grew a second head but Desmond pays him no mind and instead toggles Eagle Vision on.

There're about ten or so guards, now if he had his hidden blades and wasn't 3'10" and didn't have toddler Clay and a baby strapped to his back he could be on his merry way without much trouble. But he is bladeless and very much not over the six foot like he had been, totally has a baby— an actual, real _baby—_ and also a very _squishy_ looking Clay to mind. The man was armed with that _ridiculously_ long sword so he probably would be fine.

So Desmond did the logical thing for a five year old to do: _set the scary tall enemy guards on golden fire._

So far all Desmond had been doing was hurl fireballs at the guards or just setting the ground beneath them on fire with a swipe of his hand.

 _Certainly hadn't tried magic fire whips_.

All Desmond thought was _'Magic fire, magic fire— please burn these fiends to ash and not everything else— please'_ and well his brain kind of supplied the image of _magic fire tendrils_ so now the guards were wrapped around _magic fire tendrils_.

The turns life takes. Honestly.

The guards crackled and spasmed a bit as they were lifted.

"Fire _tentacles,_ Seventeen? Really?" Clay peeked from over the edge of the table giving Desmond a _funny_ look that could have been sultry if his baby face would allow it, as it was it just looked _funny_.

"Ew, Don't say _tentacles_ like that Sixteen" Desmond retorted making a face.

It didn't take long for the guards to pool in the floor in heaps of melted metal and short circuits.

" _Shiva's tits…"_

 _Right, mission guy. Totally forgot_ about _‘mission guy’._

The man was looking around with mild horror at the melted armors all around them, some still had some golden fire clinging to them.

His eyes scanned the room before resting on Desmond and Clay, Clay giving him a frown and Desmond just looking around like he hadn't just burned down an entire _horde_ of armed guards.

The man looked like he wanted to say something but with the amount of aborted words he was trying to spill Desmond figured this would take a bit.

So he turned on his sight and started grabbing papers, folders and some _voice recorders_ . This much tech and these people still used _voice recorders_.

Clay was putting everything he could on the handbag they had _looted_. It was getting really heavy for his tiny toddler arms so Clay was all but dragging it around now.

In the meantime the man had worked through his options and approached Desmond.

He crouched down with one hand over his knee and the other hanging in practiced relaxation. The man still seemed somewhat hesitant when he finally spoke.

"Name's Cor," the man— _Cor_ , took a small breath as he looked around the room before looking back at Desmond "you two need a way out from this place?"

Desmond shrugged off a nod, Eagle Vision said the man was an _ally_ now and he was getting tired of running around grabbing the _shiny things_.

 _Magic fire_ and a tendency for grabbing _shiny_ stuff.

_What's next? A pair of wings?— Ha._

Better not tempt fate though.

———————————————————————————————

The following hour passed in a blur of _fire_ and _slashing_ and a lot of explosions— _real earth shaking explosions_ — at one point Desmond lit Cor's blade on _golden_ fire and saw as he cut through a huge mech like _butter_.

At one point they found themselves catching a breath in some sort of _sci-fi_ control room with panels and graphs and _so many fucking buttons_ . They also found a coffee machine in there from which Desmond stripped out from all the _cream_ and milk substitutes they had and heated a cup of it. For the baby that he and Cor had taken turns carrying around. Said baby had been getting _fussy for a while now_

The baby— _thankfully_ , didn't make a fuss about it as he was fed with a _plastic spoon_. Though eventually the little one started yawning before finally succumbing to sleep.

Cor took the chance to make himself some coffee too and for all the _stoicness_ and _self-control_ the man seemed to ooze he couldn't suppress the _gag_ that overcame him.

"That bad huh— _ugh..._ " _Stupid high-pitched voice, stupid, stupid acoustic control-room_.

They both winced at the way the sound rattled in the mostly quiet room and Clay just arched a brow at them from where he was trying to _pry open_ one of the metal cabinets.

Then Desmond asks the man some questions like _how_ is he planning on getting them out and _what_ this place is. The answers aren't as _enlightening_.

So they are in a place called _Magitek_ _Production_ _Facility_ in some _other_ _place_ called _Niffleheim_ and Desmond doesn't even pretend he has any idea of what he's talking about but the man _doesn't elaborate_. 

Then the man talks about _Lucis_ , which is _another place_ — a place from where he comes from, and how he came here looking for information— and he didn't say it but Desmond knows he didn't make it this far by saying _please_ and _thank you_.

As for the plan Cor just said that they would first have to get out of the building and then once out they could contact his team and they could _leave_ for good.

The baby stayed blissfully asleep during the exchange and Desmond would very much like to keep it that way.

And for a while the only sounds in the room are the soft beeping from one machine or another, the steady humming of the fans and _Clay_ trying to use a piece of metal as a _screwdriver_.

The soft scratching eventually turns into _frustrated slamming_ mixed in with the toddler displeased grunts.

"Ugh! Why you little— Seventeen, come give me a hand with this!"

"What is it _Sixteen_ ?" Sighing as he rocks the baby as he stirred "Also keep it down, _you'll wake the baby_ "

"Mothering a bit much?— nevermind, come melt this for me"

Desmond lifts the baby, intent of carrying him over before he thinks better of it.

 _Yeah—_ babies and fire hardly sounds like a _sane_ combination.

So Desmond turns to the man.

And _stares_ at him.

Cor looks like he would very much rather be the one doing the _metal melting_ but does extend his arms to pick the little one from Desmond.

So Desmond goes to _melt some metal_.

With his hand emitting a soft glow and hard _heat_ he crouches next to Clay.

" _New trick?—_ No matter just make me a window here— And _here_ "

Clay points to two very obviously _welded_ panels and Desmond gets to work.

And it's all _too easy_ . He just presses his finger against it and _pushes_. The metal bends without protest for a bit until Desmond's finger passes through.

After that he just _drags_ it around until he makes a long rectangle and just makes it back to where he started.

Then, before the piece of metal falls he grabs it and puts it gently aside.

And then Clay just _goes at it_.

He gets in and stares at the cables and the circuit boards stashed there until he seems to _figure it out._

Then it's all a bit of pulling, ripping and switching around until the screen above the panel _lights up_.

Clay has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face when he crawls out and goes to drag a chair.

After some more messing, some quick coding and what seems to be _random pressing of buttons_ — _lots_ of complex blueprints flash all around the _screens_ , because of course Clay was going to use _all_ the screens; Clay _finally_ climbs down from his chair.

" _Do I wanna know about that?_ " Desmond asks, quirking a brow at him, as they make their way back to Cor and the kid.

" _Oh don't give me that_ — but yes you do _wanna_ know— you see _I_ just hacked ourselves a _mech_ " 

Did _what_ now?

"Oh and found us an aircraft— _a fucking aircraft Seventeen and—_ oh hacked that _too_ , the aircraft I mean—”

“You what?”

Cor stood straighter looking at the two kids like they just splashed him with cold water.

" _I. Hacked. An. Aircraft_ — Well, the docking bay more than anything— but if we have clearance from that docking bay that means we can get into the craft and _go_ " Clay was practically vibrating and he hasn't had any coffee yet because Desmond told Cor to put it on the high shelves.

_Wait how did Clay even know that he just had to clear the dock._

"Wait, you mean you can understand it?" Desmond gave him an incredulous look.

" _Pfft_ — No, I can't _understand_ anything written in those papers— if that's what you're implying, but the coding language in these things is almost the same as the ones I learnt" He shrugged it off like it wasn't a big deal. _Like hacking tech in an entire different 'coding language' was not— in fact, a big deal._

"Well you cleared us an aircraft but did you clear us a _pilot_ for said aircraft?" Desmond was impressed, sure— but not much use for a transport if you don't know how to drive it.

"Eh I was hoping _you_ knew how to drive it" Clay said with a frown "You sure you don't have any pilots in the _family_?"

"If I do, this would really be a good time to know," Desmond said with a sigh.

"Which aircraft did you free?" Cor came up to the screens but was looking at the two of them.

"Eh the top left corner one, over there is also the mech" The cameras weren't top quality but it was still better than anything Desmond had seen as security feed, even with the _assassins_.

"If it's a third generation aircraft I can pilot it, can't say it's going to be a smooth ride but it would make it easier for me to contact my team— rendezvous further away, lesser chance of getting ambushed in the way there too" Cor is _stiffly_ rocking the little bundle in his arms. 

Well at least he isn't holding it like a grenade like _Clay did_.

"So aircraft it is then" Clay goes to pick up the bag and passes it to Cor. The man raises an eyebrow at him "It's _heavy_ now"

Cor takes it, snaps a picture of the blueprints and they head back out again.

———————————————————————————————

It had been freezing when they got out but they weren't really worried about the cold for now.

"I thought you said you _hacked_ that thing—" Cor holds them close behind some type of _blue shield_ as rockets crash against them and before the shield vanishes into thin air the man grabs the three kids and hauls them behind some crates.

"Excuse you— I _did_ hack it— See? It's not hostile to us"

Another explosion a couple of yards from them sent the MT soldiers— that's what the guards are called _apparently_ , flying in all directions. The metal helmet of one landing some feet from them.

"You mean it's not hostile _only_ towards us" Cor growled, peeking from the edge before grabbing them and sprinting again.

Normally neither of them would need this kind of _manhandling_ but _then again—_ normally they wouldn't be in a battlefield with a rogue machine in the bodies of five years old.

Clay grumbled something that sounded like ' _but I did hack the damn thing'_ while holding the baby as tightly as he could without crushing it.

Desmond intercepted a rocket with a _fireball_ — which, still weird but so _cool_. And it blew some ten meters from them.

It took a lot of dodging and burning and grumbling from all of them but eventually they made it inside the craft.

Cor dropped them on the ground hidden from the mech's line of sight and he went on to start pushing buttons and pulling levers and they were _airborne_.

Then the craft’s doors finally closed and Desmond and Clay were walking right up to the big window. So far all they had seen had been metal and _fire_ so maybe this would shed some light on where they were.

 _Yeah_. No.

White mountains as far as the eyes could see, trees buried under the snow were barely specs of green in the otherwise ivory scenery.

Desmond felt a bit tingly all of a sudden and in a bit of a sudden urge he toggled Eagle Vision on.

When he had first used it as Altaïr from a vantage point he had thought it had been amazing. But as time had gone by he had thought it was a weird mechanic that Rebecca and Shaun had come up with to make it a bit more interesting. 

The idea of suddenly knowing where almost _everything_ was seemed a bit too _overpowering_ for one person.

But now as he watched the land below him it was all rushing to him.

All of a sudden he knew where all the hunting spots he could see were. Knew all the thick enough bushes to hide, there were some vantages points too. A place to procure items, and one for weapons close to it. There were new markings too that Desmond couldn't classify but they glowed gloden, _important_ somehow. He could get something like a _sense_ from other places like _danger here_ or _safe spot here_. And treasure. Desmond knew where the coin was.

Cor flipped some switches and blip came out as a sign lit up.

Then the sound of static came from a small speaker in the panel and Desmond and Clay took it as their cue to leave the window.

"— _chk_ — _What does three pigeons in a car make?— What does three pigeons in a car make?— What does—"_

A woman's voice came from the speaker repeating the same line over and over.

"A red hamster in a top hat eating ice cream with a snake" Cor rolled his eyes as he came to the mic. A sigh came from the other side.

" _... I wasn't expecting you to use a MT engine com, Marshal"_

"Neither was I, Monica, but there were some… _complications_ " Apparently, the little baby took it as his _cue_ to make the loudest _coo_ so far. Making all of them look down at him, still in Clay's grasp.

"— _Anything we should get ready over here for, Marshal?"_ She sounded suspicious but didn't add anything else. 

"Some extra paperwork" he sighed, " Send me the coordinates for the rendezvous point— And get me Regis on a safe channel once I get there, I need to have some words with him" Cor pressed his fingers over his brow and sighed with his eyes shut.

" _Understood, anything else?"_

Cor looked at them and considered them for a moment.

"Kids clothes" he blurted. There was a long pause in there Deamond thought the com might have been cut off.

" _...I beg your pardon?"_

"Heard me, something for two uh— _five year olds?_ ”He looked at Desmond and he nodded off a shrug, enough for Cor ”and a baby, less than a year, dismissed"

Another long pause.

" _Understood, have a safe trip—_ "

The com went dark and the baby started wiggling under Clay's hold. Cor went to him and Clay happily ditched the _wiggly_ thing.

"Hush now you" he said while rocking him awkwardly.

There was a long silence for a while, the ship's engine and the soft beeping the only sounds.

Clay dragged Desmond to the corner and started whispering. _In italian._

"So? What's the plan now?— 'cause you got a plan right? 'Cause I don't have a plan Desmond and I was hoping you would have one right now 'cause—" Clay was looking a bit wild on the eyes now, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves and tapping his foot "'— Cause we just followed this armed and apparently _magical_ man into a stolen aircraft and now we're trapped in here and—"

Desmond placed a hand on his arm and rubbed soothing circles on him.

"Breathe Clay, _breath in— Good— now out_ " they did that a couple of times until Clay stopped _vibrating_.

" _Good— I'm good now—_ but, dude, seriously, do you have a plan?"

Desmond looked in the direction of the man, he was leaning back against the panel, letting the baby play with his finger. He was looking at them but by the slight furrow on his brows Desmond was fairly sure he wasn't understanding any of it.

But better safe than sorry. So Desmond switched to _arab_.

"For now…" He looked around and— _Yeah, not that many options_ "For now we make it out of the craft and we'll see from then, this guy isn't hostile to us" the man still showed blue even if he mixed in with yellows and greens which Desmond still had no idea what they meant "So we make it out and see where it takes us, if they change their minds and decide to act on us we can always get away" he shrugged, they couldn't exactly do much for now.

So why not wing it while they can.

Clay didn't look reassured but seemed to calm down a bit.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, not even turbulence or altitud drops. Cor pointedly didn't ask about his arm or anything regarding Clay or Desmond and instead they passed the time passing each other the baby.

A dinging sound made Cor stand up from where he was sitting in his hunches— something that he managed to make look _comfortable_ , and he walked straight for the panel.

"We're nearing the landing point," he beckoned them over and they stood next to him, Desmond holding the baby and Clay holding onto Desmond, "Hold on to me, this might get a bit rough" he said with a wince.

So Desmond and Clay held on.

_For their lives._

_Rough_ had been clearly an understatement when they _crash landed_ into the sea. They both clung onto the man's legs while trying not to topple him over.

To the craft's credit, it did float rather nicely.

The coms went on after a bit.

" _— I have to admit_ " the same woman's voice came " _that has been your 'best' so far_ " to her credit she did sound kind of impressed.

"Shut up Monica and get us out of here" Cor grumbled and pulled a lever. The doors started to open slowly and they were greeted by a strong _warm_ wind.

A single boat was coming right up to them. Medium sized, white with some blue details.

There were men and women in some sort of _uniforms_ — long embroidered black coats, balck pants, black boots, black gloves, _black everything_. They were in the middle of getting a ladder ready or something like that.

Cor lifted his hand and a woman— _platinum_ _blonde_ that looked far too smug about something, waved right back at him. Cor grumbled something about how something was going ro be _a pain in the ass_.

They walked closer to the edge as they waited.

The two children were still latched onto him so they felt it when Cor jolted a bit.

"... It might be a bit too late to ask by now " he looked right at them "but do you have _names_?"

Clay looked at Desmond with a frown but shrugged it.

 _Up to Desmond then_.

Desmond looked around— the sun was setting low on the horizon, casting warm tones over their craft and the boat approaching them. Some thin clouds adorned the sky, meaning that it would be calm waters. Taking a deep breath, tasting the salt water, letting himself _feel_ the warmth of a sun he had felt very little over the past months.

Desmond looked at Cor as the boat made its way to them.

_Well if this is all some weird dying dream…_

"Desmond," he made a pause and let out a breath"— just _Desmond_ " Clay didn't say anything so Desmond spoke for him "That's Clay," he looked at him but Clay just shook his head "— _just Clay_ "

Cor's eyes narrowed a bit in what looked like… _understanding?_ Some form of it at least.

"Righ, well— welcome to the maritime space of the Kingdom of Lucis"

So Desmond and Clay have arrived in the Kingdom of Lucis.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little party have arrived at Lucis but nothing in Desmond's or Clay's lives will ever amount to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cor fathering much? Who knows, I don't.  
> Also update!! 'cause I was I N S P I R E D  
> Also the song I put in here is called On Raglan Road, originally an irish poem that I thought would suit this.  
> My favorite version of it it's the one from The High Kings  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ui-lejNaW7I  
> ya can listen to it there if ya want, it changes a few words from the poem but is p much just synonyms tbh.

Cor takes a deep breath and holds it, closing his eyes. Lets the salty musk of the seawater fill his lungs, he can taste it on his lips too. The white noise of the boat tearing through the water leaving him in a trance, the sound of the wind rushing onto him, against the vessel. 

He stayed like that, lulling himself into a blank space, the soft rocking of the ship helped him relax. Slowly he opens his eyes and lets out the air. 

The night had closed in now, pitch black as far as the eyes could see. Even the boat was as dimly lit as possible. Not wanting to risk detection from either Niffleheim or Lucis if there were any patrols.

This mission had taken _unexpected_ turns, to say the least. It hadn't gone _south_ , but instead, it had gone everywhere else.

His steps were light as he walked around the deck, his boots clicking softly against the floor. He made his way to the driver's cabin.

In the end he hadn't been able to contact Regis, what with a meeting with the council that was going _overtime_. He would have to pay him a visit upon arrival. He would also need to check all the documents those two had packed.

_More for the pile of paperwork on Cor's desk. Joy of joys._

The boat was rather small for the crew it supported, rather on the long side more than anything. The width and the height of it, similar to the King's own boat. This one was so much faster though. Not that Regis would ever admit it.

Then again, His Majesty's vessel and _this_ vessel were made for different purposes.

This vessel, for instance, was made to be highly reactive to _UV light_. Making the body of the ship _seem_ white under certain radiation levels but turns to _light eating black_ when lest that threshold is broken. So right now, in the middle of the night, they were pretty much _invisible_.

_Truly a wonder of altissian engineering._

Cor stepped inside the cabin and made his way to the captain. The man-made a move to stand up but Cor shook his head beckoning him to relax.

The man nodded sharply and turned back his attention to the front.

"How long until we arrive at the eastern port?" Cor asked while walking up to sit on the chair next to the man.

"If we keep this speed we should be reaching Insomnia's ports around the 0500 hours, sir," he spoke stiffly, his whole body tense "We should arrive under the cover of the night too, put 'er back into her dock with none being the wiser" 

_Good, since the only one that knows about this operation is the King himself._

Cor really doesn't want to have to deal with all the paperwork that would ensue if they are found.

"Think you can sneak under Sarius' watch?" He teased, the Eastern Port was Sarius' territory, after all, a good man if _stubborn like a mountain_ when it came to _protocol_.

The captain just snickered. _Finally relaxing._

"Wouldn't be the first time," he looked far too proud but it was well earned, even _Cor, The Immortal_ — he still couldn't believe that name had _stuck_ , had troubles sneaking around the man "Not an easy feat either— Wouldn't you agree, _Marshal?_ " Not necessarily a secret among the maritime community _so it seemed_. 

Cor just let out an amused sigh before he went to stand up.

"Good night, captain" He made for the door but didn't miss the _'Aye ‘aye, Marshal'_ from the captain.

Cor made a beeline for the hatch, not without missing the piles of _bodies_ stacked onto the benches.

Lucian soldiers never were ones to have any problem with just piling on top of one another to _sleep_. Only one or two had pillows and the rest just used _each other_ as pillows.

And Cor’s pretty sure they are using another man like a _blanket_ in the back so he grabbed a discarded blanket and covered the kid that was sprawled across _four_ people.

They all looked like big _snoring_ piles of _uniforms_ right now.

Cor left them to it and headed into the hold— honestly, they were always provided with enough bedrolls and yet they always ended up like this. 

Downstairs it's downright pitch black, the moonlight not being of much help. So Cor takes out his phone and turns it on.

Monica had long since retired to sleep and is now taking up the _whole_ couch. Not like it's a big couch to begin with, but still. _Taking up the whole couch_.

Cor turns the light away from her and shines it to the single bed in the far corner where there are two bundles in the middle of it.

The baby sleeps peacefully as his own little bundle by the wooden headboard, blankets and pillows have been rolled around him. A rather feeble _barricade_ but effective enough for the task.

The other bundle, comprised of the two other kids— Desmond, the brunette one— and Clay, the blond one. 

They were sleeping soundly under their shared blanket and under the dim light of his phone he almost missed how they were even sharing a _pillow_ which was weird because he was pretty sure he gave each their _own_. The blankets rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

_And images flashed behind his eyes._

Images of two seemingly normal kids _hacking and burning their way through an MT fortress_. Two very small, _young_ kids facing death and fire. Possibly experimented on— and there's a high chance they were to be the next weapons that they were destined to fight on the battlefield. 

For who knows how _long_ and _no one in Eos knew shit about them_ — kids being experimented on in a _madman’s lab_. No one knew much about the MT, about the Niff's _manufacturing_ facility, the _cloning_ labs— Lucis doesn't know that they are fighting _humans_ , not just machines but actual _humans_.

' _That's how war is,'_ Cor tells himself ' _but still— damn'_

Cor _really_ wanted to punch something right now. _Preferably one of those scientists he pointedly evaded back there._

People— no matter where or why they were born, _to fight on the battlefield should always be a choice. Knowing what you fight for and why; people are not machines to be programmed as those in power see fit._

Cor let out a long sigh and shook his head.

' _At least something good came out of that trip'_

He let his mouth curve up slightly as he looked at the sleeping kids. Just by taking them their futures would be so much different. He had honestly freaked out a bit when they both _fainted_ as soon as they stepped into the boat. Monica had grabbed the baby— but it had been Cor who scooped them up and settled them on the bed

The events of the day had clearly put them both through enough stress so it seemed— even if they hadn't been aware of it.

 _'—High chance they were to be the next weapons that they were destined to fight on the battlefield'_ Cor tried not to think about that. ' _Whose weapon were they going to be now'_

Shaking his head to clear his head he went and retrieved a sleeping bag from the corner and as he went back he spotted the other pillow on the floor and took it. He wasn't going to let small mercies be _gone_.

Closing his eyes, and willing his mind to empty itself he fell into fitful sleep.

* * *

The first coherent thought Desmond had as he woke was of _how long_ had it been since he slept in a bed.

His second coherent thought was that he was _sleeping in a bed_.

He opened his eyes with a start and sat up as everything came rushing to him, making him aware of all that was going on around them. 

_Instinctively_ he knew they both had fainted and that Cor had gotten them on the bed— because that’s what high levels of Isu blood did to one’s _unconscious_ perception.

Clay, he _knew_ — was still asleep next to him with one arm slung over Desmond's waist, snoring softly against the pillow. The pillow that he _hoarded_ along with the _blanket_. Clay was a blanket _thief_ , got it.

There were no signs of the baby though. Not in the room anyway.

The hatch in the ceiling was open wide and Desmond could make out the voice of a woman giving orders— and a soft _cooing_ , well one mystery solved.

The sound of heavy footsteps getting further away and then closing up, mixed with grunting and grumbling and Desmond caught a couple of ' _I'm starving'_ and _'Let's go hit the pub after'_ and ' _Wanna go back to bed'_ and— and, was that a _splash_?

"You fucker— Come'ere—"

A yelp— and another splash.

"You two quit playing around and _get to it_ " Cor barked at them.

"Yes, sir" The sound water splashing went further until Desmond couldn't hear it anymore.

Cor appeared by the hatch and walked down.

He spotted Desmond sitting on the bed and looked a bit taken back before he composed himself.

"You're awake— good, sorry but we need to get going now" he did sound a bit apologetic.

" _Right_ — Clay, _Clay_ wake up," Desmond shook Clay lightly but the _manchild_ just curled upon himself with a groan.

Clay wiggled a bit and got under the covers grumbling " _Five minutes_ "

Desmond snatched the blanket from him "Don't have _five minutes_ , come on— rise and shine"

Clay gave him a half-hearted glare but sat up.

Cor went to rummage through one of the bags while Desmond helped a very sleepy Clay down the bed.

"I had forgotten what _sleep_ felt like— Ugh, I'm so groggy now" Clay rubbed his eyes and let out a huge yawn that kept going as he spoke " _Oh_ _bloody—_ _there_ , that's not something I missed" if Cor heard them he didn't comment on it.

" _Just how much chocobo merch did she buy"_ Cor mumbled under his breath before closing the bag.

Cor came up to them and crouched down holding two pairs of tiny _velcro_ shoes.

"I hope these fit but do put these on," he handed them a pair to each along with a pair of socks. Both items had _yellow bird_ prints stamped in them but Desmond wasn't all that worried about _fashion_ right now. But he was curious about why every single piece of clothing they had _had birds_ — the same type of bird too it seemed.

The shoes fitted well, tight enough so they wouldn't slip out but not _tight_ enough to constrict their blood flow. 

As soon as they were done a couple more men came in and started hauling the crates out.

Cor made a few more orders before turning to them "You two ready? Monica— _ah_ , the woman you met yesterday, already took the baby for some checkups, I'll take you two for some later but for now we have somewhere else to be" Cor stepped aside and beckoned them to the stairs.

Desmond and Clay went for the hatch and stepped out.

The sky was dark above their heads but all the lights around them more than made up for it.

"Are those stadium lights?" Clay was looking around at the big bright _eighteen_ bulb lights.

Smaller lights lined up along the roofs and walls leaving very little to the shadows.

Desmond looked around to get his bearings— they were in some sort of _private_ dock apparently, there was only one spot to put a boat and it was taken by the one they rode on.

"Wasn't the boat white?" Desmond blurted out while staring at the vessel which was most definitely not _white_ like it had been when they set out— it was some sort of dark grey now.

Cor stepped behind Desmond and rested his hand against the hull "Stealth tech, in daytime it looks like any other boat— turns _dark_ in the night"

" _Huh_ " Desmond replied ever so eloquently.

A man approached Cor and clasped his hands behind his back "Everything unloaded, sir. We're ready to move out" he stood straight and glanced a look at Desmond and Clay— _and Desmond's arm_.

Cor cleared his throat softly and the man snapped his eyes back at him "Good, the distraction?" His stare could be enough to freeze the water.

The man swallowed thickly "C-Captain Serius has been lured away" Cor grunted in agreement and gave him a sharp nod.

"Dismissed, _soldier_ " the man wasted no time in giving a stiff salute— placing his right hand on his heart and bowing halfway, muttered a breathless ' _Sir'_ and all but _fled_.

Cor waited until his footsteps were no longer audible and let out a sigh.

He then turned back to the two _kids_.

"We too should get going, Serius won't be away for long and I'd rather not get more paperwork from Regis if he finds us"

Desmond shrugged at him and went to _grab_ Clay— who had wandered off to try and _poke_ at whatever was in that crate.

Then they were off.

* * *

 _Apparently_ , Captain Serius came back earlier than Cor expected so their game of _hide and seek_ took longer sharper turns across the port.

They almost ran into him and if it hadn't been for Desmond, who spotted the man with Eagle Vision— a _huge_ man sideways and upward with long black hair and a greying beard to match, looking orange purple all over, he signaled Clay to hold Cor back and let the man pass right by their hiding spot.

They all held their breath until he passed and Cor gave them a grateful nod.

It took a few more turns here and there but eventually, they made it out of the port.

They had walked a fair bit if the sky starting to clear up on them was any sign.

They made it to a parking spot where a single _sleek_ black car was, Cor produced the keys from his pocket and it _beeped in acknowledgment_. Looked like the Cadillacs Desmond had seen in magazines or TV, there were some differences but overall— _it was so sleek_.

 _And Desmond just had to do it_.

"Shotgun" and Desmond ran for the passenger door because he _never_ had had the pleasure to get onto something that nice and he was totally going to take the chance.

Clay just whined and attempted to beat him to it " _No fair!_ " But by the time he caught up to him, Desmond was already on the passenger seat— sticking out his tongue and looking _far too pleased_.

Clay mumbled something in Italian that was as close to ' _Stupid assassin kids and their assassin skills_ ' there was no real malice but he still gave Desmond his best annoyed look as he opened the back seat and sat in the middle.

If Cor looked amused by their antics he wasn't trying to hide it. Instead, he just got in and fastened his belt. Desmond and Clay did the same and Cor backed out of the parking spot and into the street.

The streets were clean and pretty much deserted with the exceptions of some early joggers.

The city itself was quite a sight even at this hour. There was an odd mix to it because— on one hand, you had these really tall buildings that just seemed to get taller the more you saw them, screens that seemed to cover the whole length of them and while most were turned off at this hour it was clear that they were quite a sight at nighttime.

They looked modern on a first look but as you looked beyond the lights and cables you could see the architecture under them was more on the _antique_ side, with the arched windows and the welded steel balconies with the _swirls_ and the bent metal flowers on some. 

Like they just built the modernity above it all and somehow managed to make it look good. 

It was thanks to that mix of modern and old that made the rest of the buildings— the ones without all the screens and neon lights, look _in place_.

Desmond looked at Clay and he was taking the sights as he was.

At some point Cor had turned on the radio and it was playing some soft rock with a catchy melody.

"This is Lucis' capital, _Insomnia_ , later I'll arrange someone to show you around but first we need to make a stop— there's _someone_ I'd like you two to meet. Sooner rather than later—" he cut himself off at that and Desmond and Clay shared some looks.

Desmond looked at the man again under Eagle Vision.

Cor still showed blue but there were small shifts of bright purple. Desmond didn't know what that meant, yet— but he could tell it was different from back at the _labs_. So he gave Clay a nonchalant shrug and received a raised brow in return.

The comfortable silence between the three lasted about ten minutes before Clay broke it when the car stopped at a red light.

"So— Cor, are you actually going to tell us where you're taking us _before_ we get there— or are you going to keep the mystery veil _until_ we get there?" He peeked into the front as much as he could with his belt on and stared at Cor.

Cor sighed and shook his head, "Honestly I was hoping you wouldn't ask but you will learn eventually so let's just get this over with," he took a deep breath and sighed again "I'm taking you two over there—" he beckoned them to the side with his chin.

Two _massive_ skyscrapers came in view. A single pillar of light rose far beyond the building and into the sky. The sheer height of the construction _dwarfed_ the surrounding buildings.

"That's the Citadel, the core of Insomnia—" and the place where Lucis' royal family resides," The two kids turned to him with that.

_The home of the royal family._

_What._

The man's face shifted and his eyes held a dangerous light, his smirk was _way_ too much _teeth_ and— _and_ _holy shit, his canines were huge_.

"The person you're meeting is Regis _Lucis_ Caelum CXIII— the 113th Monarch of the Kingdom of Lucis, current ruler of the country"

* * *

Regis had been awake for a few hours now, a fact he would deny to his dying breath when Clarus came to point it out and then— proceed to try and lock him back in his chambers. A futile attempt on getting him to rest.

Right now he was sitting on his desk, _pointedly_ ignoring the stacks of paperwork on it.

Instead, he shifted his attention to his side, where a rather _simple_ — by whatever royal standards there were, _crib_.

Inside said crib, under _five_ or so blankets a small tuft of midnight colored hair peeked out and the little body under it _cooed_ and _whined_ and _thrashed_ about, trying to get the fabrics off himself.

With a chuckle, Regis walked over and took some of the blankets from his child. It took some maneuvering but he managed well enough.

Soon enough big bright blue eyes found him and the distressed face he had morphed into a curious gaze.

"There you go— much better isn't it?" He picked up the baby and held him close, mindful of all the clasps of his coat. 

Swaying slowly while he held the boy with one arm and let him play with his fingers with the other.

The boy took a calloused finger in his grasp and held with a strength that never failed to surprise Regis.

Such a delicate _being_ still untouched by time and struggle, no scars painted his boy's skin yet, like polished porcelain.

_'If only I could keep you like this forever— my child, how I wish I could'_

If only he could keep his child's mind and body away from all that wish him harm. 

Some would think that him— being the _King_ he was, could accomplish it.

But it’s being the King he is that makes it the hardest. To protect those he treasures the most it's the hardest the more power it's placed on you.

Regis swallowed past the lump forming on his throat to try and hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

Instead, he just rocked the little child in his arms and hummed softly. An old song that he used to recite to Aulea. His voice was rough from strain but he sang to his child.

_On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew,_

_That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;_

_I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,_

_And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day._

His voice broke throughout the verses as the dam broke, yet again. He clutched his son tighter to his chest. Tears ran down his cheeks and he shuddered with the effort to contain his sobs.

He hummed the verses he couldn't sing anymore swaying gently— synching with the tune.

Noctis cooed softly in his grasp, reaching out to him with his tiny arms and when Regis brought him higher as his child wanted— his little hands latched onto his face, clumsily smearing the tear streams giggling softly while staring at him with bright blue eyes.

Regis couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him— this child was barely a _month_ old and it was already comforting his father. Regis resumed the song and Noctis let out a sleepy yawn that brought a smile to his face.

_On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now_

_Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow_

_That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -_

_When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day._

By the time he finished his tears had dried up and Noctis had fallen asleep again.

Regis shook his head, still amused by the fact that his child had attempted to comfort him. 

He went to put him to bed again and Regis had the mind to _not_ bury him under the blankets, and went back to his chair.

He did feel a bit better now, after letting it out.

It had been a rough month after Aulea's passing— the ceremonies for her remembrance and her funeral rites. The Citadel had taken the worst of the blow and it showed, Aulea had been loved and feared by many in the court— not an easy feat to maintain that balance, much less for someone as strong-willed as she was.

She alone had shut down many of the councilmen and women when they tried to hide their true intentions behind _selfless_ facades. She had taught Regis how to further look into a person's eyes and _see_ beyond the honeyed words and flowery pretenses. To find the point where truth _bent into the lie._

To others she might have been a lioness, a true queen— strong and regal, fitting of their royal views of the monarchy.

But to Regis and Noctis— even if the boy would never meet her, she had been the kindest of them all, loving and nurturing through and through, she had been Regis' wife and friend, _his partner in crime_ she used to say.

Regis looked at his son, sleeping soundly clutching the little Carbuncle plushie. The light blue fox held tightly by the bright red horn.

The crib looked like a weird colorful _nest_. The amount of tiny pillows and plushies and blankets looked ridiculous but every time he had tried to take away some of them Noctis would wake and _stare_ at him— _daring him to take it away_. 

So Regis kept a blind eye on the seemingly increasing amount of soft things on the crib.

 _Originally he only had a couple of blankets and pillows and the Carbuncle plushie— when did he even get this much stuff_.

A soft beeping from his phone brought him out of his thoughts.

He pulled it out and frowned.

He had a message from Cor.

 _Cor never texted him_.

Never texted anyone for that matter, he would rather take on a _Behemoth_ than text him— him, or Clarus or Weskham, Cid was probably an exception. Because the other three would more often than not _spam him_ — only because they knew how much it annoyed the man.

The text had been sent ten minutes ago.

_[I'm coming up. With guests. I know you're in your office, I asked Clarus. He's pissed. Ten minutes.]_

Ten minutes.

As if on cue, there was a knock on his door.

Regis took a second to compose himself, make sure no tear streaks were visible and straightened his coat.

"Enter"

* * *

Cor was a devil. Desmond was sure of it and Clay likely thought the same.

As soon as they stepped into the elevator Cor taught them the proper way to bow. 

With his back straight he bent, taking a step forward with his right foot, his neck followed the movement smoothly— his right hand went to the left side of his chest, next to his heart, closed in a fist with his pinky flush against his clothes

"Now try it," Cor gave them some pointers until he was satisfied.

They stepped out and before long they were at the king's door. There were guards lined up and about the spacious hallway. 

They stopped at a huge carved door. The base was wooden but a lot of the details were carved in metal.

Cor knocked on the door twice the sound echoing all around them, after a second a smooth, deep voice rang from the inside.

"Enter"

Cor stepped inside and Desmond and Clay followed close behind. The door closed after them with a loud thud that resonated over the walls of the room.

For some reason, Desmond thought they would meet the man in one of those big posh throne rooms made to make everyone feel small.

Instead, they found themselves in a study.

The room was big, a single wooden desk polished to perfection with metal carvings sat in the far end stacks of paper and folders resting on top of it, the wall behind it was all clean glass and shiny metal— they could see the entirety of the city from there if they got close. The bookshelves were mostly lined with books but some vases and statues could also be spotted. Under their feet was an embroidered deep purple rug, a symbol they didn’t know what it meant was sown in silver tones.

There was a single man in the room.

His hair had been clearly black once— but it was now greying, which was weird because the man looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties perhaps. His eyes were a pale blue that did nothing to hide the intensity of his gaze. Around his eyes, his laugh lines were starting to take root, if ever so slightly.

The man wore a rather simple ensemble— a three-piece black suit, the jacket, and the pants were lined with straight silver lines with some dark purple accents with patterns Desmond couldn't make heads or tails of. A wide leather belt, black too, clung to his waist, a silver oval in its center and copper clasps. Under the black jacket, he wore a dark purple shirt with lavender colored roses. Black leather shoes completed the ensemble, there were some silver cuffs on his wrists and some metal clasps on his jacket.

There was a coat rack close to the desk where an actual cape sat.

The man— _the king_ , looked at Cor straight in the eye, his lips didn't twitch but his eyes betrayed his amusement.

" _Marshal_ ,"

" _Majesty"_ Cor bowed solemnly but his own eyes betrayed his growing annoyance.

 _"_ You texted" the king sounded _smug_ somehow.

"I did," Cor stood straight but there was a relaxed aura about him, " _don't make me regret it"_

The king chuckled," _Of course I will_ " they both stepped forward and shook hands before sharing a one-armed hug. When they parted they patted each other on the shoulder and stood side by side.

Regis' eyes widened when they landed on Desmond and Clay who were looking at them with awkward eyes.

"Cor," the man started, "why didn't you tell me you had _kids_ " _Cor_ playfully shoved him with his shoulder.

"If I had kids there's little that would stop you from wanting to meet them you know it," before now Desmond hadn’t thought the man was capable of sounding _relaxed_ , what with the little time they had spent with him he had sounded tired or annoyed.

The king turned his attention back to Desmond and Clay and they both did their best impression of a bow.

With a soft chuckle, he bent on one knee and beckoned them up, "No need for formalities boys, be at ease" the two kids adopted a relaxed stance.

 _He's a lot chiller than what Desmond thought he'd be_. _Nice._

"I'm Regis," the man— _the king_ , Regis said, "Who might you two be?"

Desmond and Clay introduced themselves, Regis' eyes fell to Desmond's marred arm and his furrow wasn't gone fast enough for them not to notice. But he didn’t add anything else so _they didn’t either_.

Once he was up again, Cor stood in front of him.

And his face suddenly turned stern and the king's face did the same.

"Majesty, I've come to deliver my report on my mission," Cor stood straighter and looked _beyond_ the man in front of him.

Cor gave a quick report, not leaving anything out, not Desmond's _magic_ — because Cor totally called it magic, or Clay's hacking prowess— and Clay was looking far too smug at basically being called a tech genius.

There was some silence before the king murmured a breathless ' _I see'_

He stepped back a bit before crouching down once again.

"Desmond," he held his hand open and beckoned Desmond closer. Desmond knew what he wanted him to do but that didn't make him any less wary, friendly touching with strangers wasn’t something he was used to— but still, he let the king hold his hand.

Regis turned his wrist around with a gentle touch, as if he was afraid of breaking his arm.

"Can you show me the magic Cor mentioned?" His voice was soft, pleading even and for a second Desmond was a bit taken aback because no one had ever talked to him like that— and then the king swallowed and looked right at him with pale blue eyes ", please?"

"Err— Yeah— I mean, yes but uh— you might want to step back a bit" Desmond shuffled awkwardly in place, he knew he hadn't burned off Clay— or Cor, for that matter. _But he wasn't going to risk burning the King in his own castle_.

Regis didn't argue and took a couple steps back.

And Desmond though ' _Ignite_ ' and his arm was engulfed in golden flames the next second. They danced over his clothes without burning them.

Regis kept looking at him so Desmond retracted the fire and brought out _electricity_.

Flashes of lightning rays swirled around his arm, going as far as his shoulder before dying, like the flames they didn't tear or burn his sleeve.

So far that was all the demonstration he could do, he didn't want to set the place on fire even if he could call it back.

The king looked _troubled,_ to say the least, but made up his mind and walked up to Desmond.

"Can you try _this,_ " this being Regis' own palm turning into _ice_.

Clay made an aborted sound in the back but Desmond couldn't really focus on him because this man, this king was turning the air around his palm into a small blizzard like it was the most normal thing to do and _not a magic thing to do_.

So Desmond too, made a small blizzard in his palm— it took him a minute to get the hang of it.

Regis stared at him with awe and confusion and opened his mouth to say something.

That was quickly drowned by a couple of loud _growls_.

Desmond clutched at his stomach with one hand and looked back at Clay who was doing the same thing.

_They had to have such golden timing, didn't they?_

They hadn't eaten anything since the chips and soda back at the facility. Honestly, Desmond had completely forgotten about food until now.

After some awkward silence, Regis stood up, patting away the frost that clung to his own sleeve.

"Well I’d say it _is_ time for breakfast, why don't you three join me?" He smiled fondly and went to grab his cape from the rack and then turned to the corner.

Desmond looked at Cor who looked a bit awkward under his stare and mumbled something about how he ' _completely forgot about basic human needs'_ and then mouthed an apology at them.

Regis came back with a little bundle in his arm, midnight colored hair and skin like a porcelain doll, wrapped under a star stamped blanket and clutching a blue fox plushie.

"I'd say some food should sound good for all of us now— wouldn't it?" He crouched in front of them and looked at them with such a proud, loving look it _stung_ "this is Noctis, my son" and when Desmond heard the name _something_ compelled him to _look_.

In a blackened world reduced to simple shades of white outlines and shades of gray, there was a comforting mass of blue in front of him, it seeped out of the man like smoke making him look bigger in Eagle Vision but it was the bundle in his arms that ended drawing Desmond in— for in the arms of said blue mass there was a _golden_ beacon.

Regis, the King of Lucis— showed _blue_ , but his son, barely a couple months old— _shone like a sun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So eh this shit is comming together, I'll get to the chocobros eventually so bear with me and tell me what you thought, as I was finishing the last touches I found that long line tool and I'm shooketh this is so good.  
> Edit: I had so many grammatical mistakes holy fuck so I corrected them today (27/03)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond and Clay finally get some proper food.  
> Regis and Cor get up to date as best as they can.  
> And apparently, magic takes many forms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who.

Breakfast with the king was a lot less tense than what Desmond thought it would be. At first, they made small talk until Regis told them it was fine if they called him 'Reggie'.

Which would be a lot more awkward to do if they had grown learning about the king like _the king_ he was and not some random man who knew how to do magic and had a _shiny gold_ son.

Calling him Reggie should totally be more awkward.

They had met the man about half an hour ago, were currently having breakfast with him and some sort of general, Regis— _Reggie_ had taught Desmond a new magic trick, and he did promise to get Clay a device to _tinker_ with after breakfast.

He had expected some sort of flourishing banquet with an unnecessary amount of silverware— so it was both mildly disappointing but such a relief that breakfast ended being fairly simple.

While Reggie and Cor had something that looked and _smelled_ a lot more spiced than theirs did, both dishes were pretty much the same.

Toast and eggs— though Desmond and Clay ignored how very abnormally big said eggs were, some cuts of meat on the side that made their mouths water from how _juicy_ it looked. It had a strong, sweet and sour smell to it that made it all the better.

They had some veggies on the side too and Desmond didn't know half of the things in there could actually be put into a salad, it had the normal stuff but it also had cooked potatoes, red onions, chives and spices neither of them had a clue on what they were but were so _good_ and whatever dressing it had it was _heaven_.

It may have been the hunger talking but Desmond didn't think he would be able to be impressed by another meal ever again.

Clay didn't look much better off, practically _whining_ at the taste of it.

Desmond bumped their knees together and Clay looked at him with half fried egg in his mouth " _That_ good?"

The older men pointedly ignored the two kids in front of them wolfing down their food and had their own breakfast in relative quiet.

"Clarus will have my head for this _you know_ ," Cor rose an eyebrow at Regis who just chuckled, wiping down his mouth with a white napkin, "of course _you know_ , this is nothing but a ruse to finally get rid of me" there was no malice behind his words it was all mock hurt— but somehow Cor managed to sound _annoyed_.

Regis set down his cutlery and looked at Cor straight in the eyes, "We both know that getting rid of you— of all people, is next to impossible," he may have been dead serious but the fond look in his eyes was obvious "isn't it right, Immortal?" Cor rolled his eyes and Desmond decided to ignore how he suddenly couldn't see Reggie's hand and how Cor was giving him the same fond look and— _why, yes this is very good food_ , let's focus on that.

Clay was oblivious to it, more interested in stealing Desmond's toast.

Desmond just swatted his hand away but still pulled their plates together and slid the bread piece into his plate.

"Clay you're making a mess— ugh," Desmond grabbed his napkin and passed it to Clay "clean yourself"

"Oh shut it Seventeen I haven't eaten in— in I don't know how long"

"You're going to get sick Sixteen" Desmond let out a sigh, knowing Clay would probably eat until he passed out. Good thing there wasn't nearly that much food.

Clay gave Desmond a determined look and blurted " _And I'm going to own it_ " which earned him a stolen carrot. Clay grumbled indignantly as he saw his carrot die.

Eventually, their plates were removed and Clay groaned with the effort that took standing up.

A knock came through the door and an elder woman in a long black dress came in and bowed to the king. With her hands clasped at her front.

"Good morning, Majesty," she spoke with a soft voice, "I have come to take prince Noctis for the day"

"Good morning Elena, give me a moment" Regis went to retrieve Noctis from a crib— and Desmond didn't doubt that the man had put a crib in every room of the castle.

Regis held Noctis close for a couple of seconds before parting with a soft kiss on his head. Then he carefully passed him to the woman.

"There, Elena I'll leave him to you," Regis gave her a sharp nod and stepped back.

"Yes, Majesty," she bowed her head this time and retreated until she reached the door, a couple of guards bowed to the king— like Cor taught Desmond and Clay to do and stayed like that until the doors closed.

The sound of footsteps as they faded away echoed around the hall.

Cor stood close to Regis and placed his hand on the man's shoulder. They looked at each other and then Regis relaxed a bit. Cor walked past him

The way back to Regis' office was blissfully quiet save for the rhythmic clanking of boots. Apparently, the king was always followed by an escort.

Cor walked a couple steps behind Regis— likely because of some protocol or another, Desmond and Clay behind him and two men guarded the rear and three went by the front.

The hallway they were taking now had huge glass panes that showed the city. The sun was peeking through the horizon, lighting everything up. Desmond stopped in his tracks and walked to the window pressing his hand against the glass, there was something odd with the sky.

_'Familiar is more like it— is that...?'_

There was an energy barrier in the sky.

 _Eerily similar to the one that trapped him with The Eye_.

"Desmond? What's wrong—?" Clay went up to him and frowned "Isn't that…?" Regis too, stopped and looked back at them but Desmond couldn't find much of a mind to care because this was definitely an Isu barrier.

This one was bigger— by _a lot,_ given that it seemed to cage the entire city— bigger than the one at the Grand Temple.

Cor walked up to them and crouched down "Is there something wrong?"

Desmond took a breath swallowing down the images of _flesh melting fire, the screams of his friends, his own screams and screeches of pain as he felt his blood boil under his skin, the pain was barely bearable if only because the blasted artifact still needed hm conscious, feeling his flesh crack under the pressure building inside before fire started seeping out and—_

A hand came to rest in his shoulder startling Desmond— it took him a moment to realize that it was the king's hand. And that his own was fogging up the window, leaving snowflake patterns in its wake.

"W-what?" Desmond looked at the two men crouching down before him. The two _blue_ figures flickered into greens and oranges but there were figures behind them that were closing in on _red_.

Holding weapons that Desmond didn't see on them before.

Cor stood up to them and their colors startled to light oranges and _growled_ at them "Put those away _soldiers_ it's a fucking kid. Put. Them. Down." their colors flickered until they settled on green hues. Regis too— stood up and walked towards them.

Clay was at Desmond's side looking _dazed_ , shifting even more than the guards, clutching his head. And more movement catches his eyes.

_To Cor's left there's a familiar hooded silhouette, Ezio is standing with a hand resting in his sword handle._

_From his right, Connor walks up to the guards wielding his tomahawk loosely in his grip— and the men take a step back but turn harshly to be met with Haytham, pointing a gun at them._

_An Irishman appeared next to him and leisurely rested a hand on his shoulder, a small blade on his wrist and as he pointed his sword towards the group._

_A brown eagle let out a screech over their heads landing on Connor's shoulder._

_A man with dirty blond hair stepped forward by the right side, holding a gun on one hand and a curved sword on the other. A dark-skinned man stood next to him. Edward and Adéwalé, a voice in the back on his head supplied._

_A dagger struck the floor mere inches away from a guard's boot, breaking the ground under it. A rope was drawn tight and went straight into the ceiling— Shao Jun stepped out of the shadows and perched herself on the ledge. Knives in her hand._

_But their eyes were drawn again by the soft sound of the clicking of boots. A lady befitting of a fairytale walked up to them, her parasol swaying lightly, she slowly brought it to point the tip at the feet of men. Aveline launched a single dart that pierced the ground._

_One by one they began to fill the hallway. The Frye twins slowly descended from the roof, their bracers were latched with ropes that pierced through the ceiling._

_Arno staggered towards the small group of armed men and took a big swing out of a bottle and sent it smashing to the wall before pulling out a golden sword. In a blink he was in front of them._

_Senu came diving from the sky, the men held their shields high only to find themselves at arrow point, Bayek relaxed his hold on the arrows before tightening it again. A warning._

_Another pair of eagles danced by their heads. Icarus flew with a companion in perfect sync. The sound of galloping came from further away, a woman on horseback jumped in the middle of the group and held a spearhead above her head golden light shimmering out of it. Kassandra looked at them, daring them to attack when a loud growl came from up high. Alexios was perched effortlessly on another pillar, like Shao Jun holding a heavy axe with one hand._

_And they just kept coming._

Cor had moved to Regis' side at some point, dragging Clay along behind him. Regis was looking around in mild horror. They were surrounded by golden _phantoms_ , armed with every weapon possible. _Real weapons if the damage to the floor and ceiling was any indication of it._

" _Highness—!"_

So busy trying to look at everything he missed the man behind him as he pressed his hidden blade to the king's pulse point. Regis froze in place as _Altaïr_ appeared behind him.

Cor made an aborted move, his sword already halfway out but he couldn't bring himself to pull it— not when Regis' life was at stake.

One of the guards tried to move from the group, get to Altaïr and pry him from his king.

But Altair was faster— he always was.

_"...Stop"_

Barely a whisper but Altaïr heard and kept his blade steady. Desmond stood in front of Regis. Clay snuck behind the king.

The words left their mouths before they even thought them " _Leave, Champions of the Sun— there's no danger here for you to fight"_

Altaïr looked at Desmond intensely from under his hood, then gave Clay a sideway glance and lowered his arm. 

And then they vanished in a gush of golden dust.

It was like time had stopped. No one dared to move, even after the dust had cleared completely.

A hand came from the side and pulled Regis from between the two kids.

The man's robes flowed gracefully as he moved, the black and gold raiment with the _long_ sleeves that fell from his arms like obsidian cascades— all the golden clasps and lapels embroidered to perfection in a hundred patterns. There was only _one_ council member in the entirety of Lucis that could wield that Behemoth sized _broadsword_.

" _Seize them!_ " Clarus' voice thundered across the hallway.

The guards snapped out of their trance and suddenly Desmond and Clay were surrounded.

* * *

Regis had to think of something and had to think it fast or Clarus was going to _kill_ these children.

He was still a bit shaken, sure— _but who wouldn't be?_

Until now he had never been at the end of such an _advanced_ _Royal Arms technique_. Not even his spars with his own _father_ had involved them going at each other with their own Royal Arms.

There were records of magical variations in the kings of yore. One, in particular, talked about a King— whose name had been forgotten by time, who was said to have been able to summon the _spirits_ of the kings and queens before him. But the record's of that monarch had been dubious, to say the least— _they were supposed to be just stories_ _until now_.

There would be times for Regis to muse over that piece of information. Times that wouldn't be _now_.

_For when Clarus isn't pointing his broadsword to Desmond and Clay._

"Enough— Clarus!" Regis tried to step closer but the Shield just held his hand out, slowly stepping in front of the king, his sword firm in his grip.

" _Stand down!"_ Cor growled at them and the men looked between him and Clarus.

" _Stand down, Cor"_ Clarus was glaring at Cor and Regis knew that a decade of friendship wouldn't stop them from clashing swords right down.

" _They are children_ " Cor's hand was slowly reaching for his sword.

"These _children_ just had His Highness at the end of a blade and surrounded _Crownsguard_ members and even _you_ , Cor— _Do forgive me for being cautious_ " Cor's jaw went tense, Clarus kept his eyes fixed on the two kids.

Clay was clutching to Desmond's left arm looking _pale_. Desmond wasn't much better, his skin was darker than Clay's so it wasn't as obvious— but he too, was looking quite pale. Whatever that display of magic had been it must have put them in a _stasis_ like state.

Clarus walked up to the two kids and the Crownsguard parted. The king's Shield didn't lower his broadsword as he approached.

"Who are you? What's your objective?" Clarus' voice was _cold_ as he spoke.

Desmond stared at the man, his eyes flickering everywhere but there were no escape routes— they were completely surrounded.

But Clarus wasn't going to back down and took another step, his blade even closer to the young boy's chest.

"I'll ask again, _child_ — Who sent you? What's your objective?"

If it was just his escorts, Cor could easily tear through without harming the children or the guards— but even _The Immortal_ had limits. He could tear through the guard but Desmond and Clay will be cut in half if Regis doesn't do _something_.

Regis clearly understood Clarus' point, after all, they had— _somehow_ , used magic beyond what any of them thought possible and surrounded them in mere seconds.

However Regis also saw the way the two of them had looked at the _Wall,_ the shield he maintained over Insomnia. In their eyes, that dome in the sky _should not exist_. There was some form of _trauma_ that triggered the display. Regis would know about _trauma_ — he himself, had seen what the horrors of war and death left did to his soldiers.

"Clarus. Stand down" Regis tried to approach again, but his Shield quickly stepped between them again.

"I. Won't."

" _It's an order_ " Regis managed a feint, swaying to one side before _phasing_ to the other side, the short distance teleportation left a blue after-image of himself next to the Shield.

" _They tried to kill you_. Successful attempt _or not_ — they are a threat to the Royal family. Will you have me go back on my oat? Ignore my _vows_ to protect you, _Your_ _Majesty_?" The man just side glanced Regis, knowing if he moved in to try and block him the King would just _phase_ into the tight circle he had drawn Desmond and Clay in.

 _Damn Clarus and his stubbornness_ , the kids weren't a threat, he wouldn't have let them that close to his own _son_ if they were.

Regis had to make a choice. _One that would come to bite him in his royal ass later but damn it all._

_The death of these children wasn't going to be in his conscience._

"You will step down," Regis stepped up and summoned his sword, the black blade took shape under light blue lights— and pointed it to the Shield's neck.

Clarus looked _betrayed_ , his broadsword shagged in his grip and the hurt it caused Regis couldn't be hidden— Clarus was his oldest friend, one he held close to his heart and even considered a _brother_ . But the man was also stubborn as a _rock_ when it came to Regis' safety. Regis swallowed thickly. There was no going back now.

Slowly he made his way into the circle, trying to convey the _truth_ behind his actions to the man in front of him— Desmond tugged Clay and they stepped behind the king, the guards starting to retreat, confusion blatant in their faces.

"You will stand down. _For you are raising your blade against royal blood, Clarus Amicitia, withdraw your blade_ "

There was no going back now.

* * *

Clarus was dumbfounded— _to say the least_.

They had dismissed the guards, Regis saying something or another about this being _sensitive_ information and they were ordered not to talk about it until called again by either the King, Cor or, apparently— Clarus himself. The men had walked out with blank looks but would still be standing guard outside

Even now, sitting at the old military strategy hall he was still having a hard time coming to terms with everything Cor and Regis were telling him.

How Cor was on a mission he knew nothing about, and how he had pulled the two children— Desmond, the one with the _odd_ hand; and Clay, the _pale sickly_ one— out of a hellish _cloning_ facility.

How the both of them seemed to have strange affinities. Clay, with machines and technology— hacking and programming of different electric and electronic devices; Desmond, with _magic_.

Clarus could feel a headache coming his way and he had to rub his temples to try and keep it at bay.

"Clarus," Regis sighed from where he was sitting by the couch "I'm sorry, for what I did what I did back there— but we all know that you wouldn't have backed down without a good reason" Regis' guilty look told Clarus enough “Even to us the recent events have left us with little time to… think things through— talk them out” Regis sounded tired and it pained Clarus to see his friend like this, it was bad enough that keeping up the Wall constantly depleted him of his energy and now he had to deal with— _with whatever this was_.

It had frozen him when Regis pointed his sword at _him_ , but after the initial shock passed all he felt was bone-deep _hurt_. The kind that had only died down when Regis hugged him and apologized _intensely_ after the Crownsguard had been dismissed and in the relative privacy of the war room.

Cor had joined in after a second but the man had to sit down a bit too soon. The two children in his arms started to grumble and trash in their sleep, speaking in _gibberish_.

The children had remained awake for the whole trip to the war room— until the king's escort left and the kids practically shut down.

' _Did I—' Clarus had barely managed to catch the blond one before he hit the floor._

_'No. They are entering stasis, using that much magic in such a short period must have depleted them of their reserves— Clarus, this wasn't you’ Regis tried to assure him, as they laid the children on the far couch._

The words did little to reassure Clarus but he dropped the topic. _For now_.

Regis had pulled out a bottle of _ether_ from the Arminger and made the tiniest crack on it, letting the raw magic energy fall over the two children in a mist of blue light.

Clarus took a breath “So are they really—” _bastards? Did Regis—?_ No. Clarus spent almost every waking moment with him for some three decades, _he would know if he had a fling_.

Regis let out an amused chuckle “Honestly, I have no idea— it wouldn’t be the first time a new branch was found _beyond_ Lucian borders, you and I know just how _free_ my father was”

Clarus just sighed at that, King Mors had been a complete _manwhore_ — he was pretty sure it was _Pop Culture_ at this point. Honestly, he is surprised Regis came out as a single child.

“How come you are the only child that came out of— _that?_ ” Cor mumbled from the side, loud enough for them to hear and they laughed at that.

“I do wonder about it” Regis shook his head but then let his face turn serious, “But I’m afraid that would be a conversation for another day”

Clarus’ set his jaw tense, no more stalling then.

“I can’t very well take down what I just said, that would only prompt them to gossip about it until it got out of control—”

Cor spoke before Regis could find the words to continue “And it wouldn’t take long for Niffleheim to find out about them and connect the dots— if the two kids that had been taken from their territory, suddenly popped up in Insomnia as _princes_ no less... ”

“Then we would enter a full-scale war” Clarus finished before turning to Regis “Couldn’t have just said that it had been a new trick of yours could you Majesty?” he sighed.

“You know very well _you_ of all people wouldn’t have bought it” Regis retorted, rubbing at his own temples before standing up and going to sit at the head of the long table. Clarus and Cor followed close behind, leaving the two children to recover their magic.

Clarus fumbled with his cape before setting it in the chair next to him and sitting down at the king’s right “Fair enough” 

“So what will we do about it?” Cor rested his arms on the table, lacing his fingers together.

“On one hand we could make an official announcement,” Regis started, “leave out the part where they were found in Niff territory— the Empire will see right through it, but they won't be able to act without revealing that they had two Lucian princes in an experimentation facility," 

“But that would only keep them at bay for a limited time," Clarus, combed his fingers through his short beard "—eventually they would bring up the _attack_ on their facility, and try and rein the world’s attention on that instead, until twisting the truth to make it seem like Lucis attacked unprovoked,"

Cot rubbed at his temples and sighed, "And by that point, all records of the facility's businesses would have been _unfortunately_ lost in a fire— or something of the like"

Regis nodded "Then we would be left with two more princes of dubious origins and the accusations from the Emperor— we'll be lucky if they don't try and make fake records of Desmond and Clay and stick them with imperial citizenship and into the grasp of their long lost _uncle or auntie_ and then we lose them again before they _mysteriously_ _disappear_ " Regis sighed sadly, making Clarus and Cor turn to him "and when that happens we'll be lucky if we ever meet them again in the battlefield"

That sure brought down the mood even further.

"There is no need to spin a complete lie though—" Desmond's high pitched voice made them turn to the couch.

"Damn it all— eugh, this is so much worse than _Bleeding—_ ugh" Clay was sitting up swaying a bit.

Regis stood up from his seat and walked over to them and Clarus wanted to follow him the short distance, clenching his fists on his lap.

After all, Clarus did point his blade at them and nothing short of threatening their lives. After hearing everything he did feel _a lot_ like an asshole.

"How are you two feeling?" Regis crouched down in front of them.

"Like I'm housing a _mother of a hung— ..._ headache" Clay looked around awkwardly, "Eh— it's fine, it will pass— anyway, you were saying something, Desmond?"

Cor spun his chair around to face them "Right, what were you saying, about not needing to lie?"

"Well it's not _not lying_ , but you don't have to change everything— just some bits, like—" he seemed to think about it for a moment "We're this or that king's consort bastard sons, sold as slaves to the enemy to experiment on, we _make some information_ and get it in your _databases—_ like a record 'Princes found, year… whatever, the princes kidnapped by enemy soldiers, then tell your guards that 'for our safety, our existence must remain a secret'— maybe there's something among the things we picked up— What?" 

Clarus' brows went his hairline, while Regis was just looking at the both of them blankly and Cor had gone a bit slack around the mouth. Clarus isn't sure he got the whole thing— What did he say at the end? 

Cor blinked out of his stupor first and looked at the two men, "The first part doesn't sound half bad— wouldn't be the first time in history a king hid royal _bastards_ , with the tensions with Niffleheim the Crownsguard might buy it," he paused and regarded Desmond "but the second part, faking records on databases— we might have to rethink that part, getting into Niff networks is as close to impossible as it gets and—"

"Leave that part to me, though I'll need some equipment— like a _small_ keyboard because I won't be able to type at the speed I'm used to with a normal one and—"

" _To you?_ " Clarus couldn't keep the unconvinced tone in his voice.

"— _Who else?_ I did it inside that _hellspot_ in record time, I can do it again— _faster_ , with better equipment" Clay snapped at him with all the rage of a _sassy_ five years old "I am damn good at coding— Desmond you tell him _"_

Desmond laid his eyes on Clarus and the man fought the urge to summon his broadsword again— bright amber eyes that seemed to look straight to his soul, his eyes didn't leave Clarus as he spoke "Clay is your best bet right now, he can get into _anything_ ," The two children shared a look between them, "and he can get out too as invisible as you will get" Clarus couldn't help to feel a bit of a _déjà vu_ when watching them.

Desmond perked up and looked at Cor

"Say isn't there _anything_ in the bag of files we gathered?" Cor's eyes widened for a second and then he brought a hand to his eyes.

"Files?" Regis was sitting down next to them pouring some more _ether_ over their heads, the blue light showering them lightly— then everyone's eyes turned to Cor.

" _I knew I was forgetting something_ " Cor mumbled before stretching his arm and pulling the bag out of the armiger.

Regis muttered under his breath "So that's what I felt yesterday" then Cor proceeded to re-explain that the files and other stuff Desmond and Clay had grabbed before they ran into each other were inside the bag.

Regis sighed and Clarus rubbed at his temples— there was an awful amount of things inside the bag, Clarus cleared his throat, "Anything we should know before getting started?" He glanced at the two kids, there was a lot of stuff— where those manual recorders?

Desmond shrugged "No clue since we can't actually read it"

Regis shared a look with Clarus, then how did they even know how to pick what they picked? Clarus opened his mouth but Clay beat him to it.

"Speaking of which— does any of you have a dictionary?"

Desmond perked up "What do you even want a dictionary for?"

And Clay just grinned at him, " _I have a bit of a theory I want to confirm_ "

Everyone was highly _suspicious_ of the blond now. Desmond looked at him with narrowed eyes but said nothing.

Clarus stood up "I have one by my office, I will go get it and inform your secretary that we won't be making it to the council session" the last part was directed at Regis, "Will we go through _that_ here?" He was almost at the door when he spoke.

Regis looked around and sighed, "My chambers, I've got better chairs in there" Clarus nodded and stepped out but not before bowing towards his liege. 

* * *

Regis had his head propped up with a hand on his cheek and tossed another paper to the pile to his right. Another _coded file_.

Regis sighed and went to grab another piece sparing a glance around the room.

Right now he was sitting at his desk, rather modern, all smooth wood and glass, all light metal in the supports. His laptop rested under the glass in a small compartment.

The desk was on the far left corner of the room, his plush black chair turned away from the window— the arrangement ensured that he had as much as he could in his line of sight.

Clarus and Cor were taking up the wooden black love seat by the window, they too had their own stacks of papers as they sorted them out on the coffee table.

Cor just glanced at one and grumbled " _The dish came out well if a bit under spiced—_ another code..." he tossed the sheet to the _bigger_ pile. Clarus wasn't looking any better— staring at his own paper like he was trying to set it on fire.

Finally on the center of the room were Desmond, Clay, and Noctis— his son looking at the older children intently. 

Lying down on their bellies pouring over several dictionaries and grammar handbooks that Clarus had brought. Desmond had his back to them but he could see him turning his pages constantly and caught Clay mumbling something that sounded like ' _Cheater_ ' but he too was making his own progress albeit slower.

Noctis was holding his plushie to his chest and had a little light blue pacifier in his mouth, content to just look for now.

The hours passed by with little progress, most of the files were coded and what little wasn't, they had no way of understanding. They divided another stack for blueprints to get to a specialist later.

They all wrote report-style resumes and recited them in a rather loose speech form. It had been almost a decade since he heard Cor swear every _two words_. Desmond and Clay were now using Regis' laptop and were playing recordings of a woman speaking _every Niff word in the dictionary_. By the sounds of it, they were almost done.

_But of course, the two of them wanted to 'cause the older men whiplash._

"Does this sound about right— eugh, this is weird how do these people even speak?" Desmond spoke in a thick Niffleheimian accent.

"Sounds thick— urk, give me that and let's see," Clay typed something quickly before setting the device aside " _Shitty ass language,_ though I like how _'dumb idiot'_ translates to _'brainless sock'_ totally using that one"

"Should have learned the curses first then,"

"No kidding— _what?"_

"Did you just master a whole fucking language in three hours? Cor huffed in thick Niff, setting down another file looking.

To his credit, Desmond did look _sheepish_ , "Eh, kind of? Guess we have a knack for languages," shrugging, he left it at that.

"One could hardly call 'learning an entire language, grammatical rules and all' having just _a knack_ for it" Clarus sighed before waving some folders, "Want to give it a try?"

Desmond shrugged but made his way over.

And Regis was sure he wasn't imagining the shine in his eyes. It was a subtle thing, he had mistaken it for mere tricks of the light at his office.

But they were definitely shining now. Cor and Clarus were back to their papers while Clay was typing away at his laptop.

Desmond had a focused frown on his face before he stood up and grabbed a pen and a clean sheet of paper and began… _doodling_? No, those weren't doodles, that was—

"You can write Solhemian glyphs?" Regis walked over and, yes those were real Magitek symbols. Wonder written in his face.

"What— _huh_ , guess I can, whatever _Solhemian_ is" Desmond frowned and stared at the odd lines and curves. His eyes, Regis noted, were back to normal.

"How did you even get Solhemian from Niff's writing?" Cor peeked over the kid and into the report he had read.

"Not sure but this is the only thing I managed to get from this," Desmond underlined the words 'Obsidian wolf'.

Before Regis could get a better look at the glyphs, Desmond stood and walked over to Clay.

"Think you can find anything on this?" Desmond handed the blond.

Clay took the paper and frowned.

"What do you even need me for? It's—" Desmond was seeing it too wasn't he, " _you can't,_ I— mean you wrote but you really can't— what the actual _fu_ —" Clay's eyes were brightening up by the second with a beautiful light green hue as he rambled. Regis suddenly froze.

Noctis was _still_ on the bed.

" _Sixteen"_

The young boy suddenly jolted, his eyes flashed brighter and while Regis was sure they wouldn't harm his boy— _he was all he had left_ …

The magical wave felt like a gust of wind against his skin, Clarus and Cor looked around they had felt it too but were clueless as for its origin.

The glow shimmered down then, Desmond had a hand over Clay's knee.

Noctis wasn't any wiser about the magic wave and was instead looking up at the older boys.

"Eh right— what were we saying again?" Desmond quirked a brow at the blond but said nothing.

"You were going to tell me what this said?"

"Oh that— yes, that thing, err," Clay's eyes lit up again, it was a softer glow that flickered unsteadily.

After some musings Clay spoke, "I guess the translation should be ' _Diamond Weapon_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I give Alexios an eagle??? Ye. I played odyssey with him and it was weird writing him 'eagless' so I made my own  
> Also Connor's eagle is Io:nhiòte, one of his daughters; the only one that developed eagle vision. P much Like Kassandra and Bayek (And now Alexios 'just 'cause).  
> Clarus didn't leave a good first impression and it won't be forgotten.  
> We gettin' it on.  
> SPOILER FFXV: I highly recommend looking up "The Fall of Insomnia" cinematic, that ugly fuck is Diamond Weapon. The cinematic is fucking good too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too bad it couldn't last.  
> They had to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #Sorry_not_sorry  
> Been buuussyyyyy and also had writer's block, awful tbh. Eh double chapter as a sorry for disappearing and because I got carried with ch 4. And for those who needed confirmation: Yes, Clay has Eagle Vision. Only those with innate magical abilities can see the shine on their eyes as they do magic, Regis shares his magic with Clarus and Cor so that's why they can't see it.  
> also yer comments give me life thx to all of you <3  
> eh 50k yen is about $500 usd

Honestly, _Operation: Undocumented Eagle_ — the name a courtesy from Clay that Desmond accepted even if every time it made Desmond roll his eyes every time someone said it— _it had been far too easy_. Well, the infiltration part.

Clay had expected FBI level security, or SIS— MI5 maybe?, virtual JSDF? Is that a thing? _He'll never know_ — instead, he got mild resistance at best. Cyberwarfare not a thing yet in here, he had taken part in a lot of that back with the assassins.

Clay did make a bit of an AI, less because he needed the backup and more about needing bigger hands because he can't type at his usual speed like this. Though if he modified said AI to make it a master key no one needs to know. He'll brag it out to Desmond, but later.

"Seventeen, what sounds better? 'Royal assets' or 'Royal bastards', personally I like royal bastards,"

Desmond was reading some of the coded reports and writing more glyphs on the bed next to him. On the _King's_ bed next to him— Regis had lent it to them, being the only room that no one was allowed except for the king and his retinue. They also could get in from the prince's room using a _secret door_

"Just leave it as 'assets', it's kind of a secret report, after all, gotta keep it proper" Royal bastards sounded way _cooler_ though, but Desmond was right so 'assets' it was.

That had been a new thing too, ever since coming to this— _this world_.

It had taken a bit to sink in, harder thing to do for Clay— his head had been messed up with too much, first by his father, then depression and anxiety, then the assassins, the templars, the _assassins again_ , the Isu— _dying_ , downloading himself into the animus, _downloading himself into Desmond_ , dying again.

_'Then coming back'_

A part of him still thought that he was still back at his dorm sleeping— that his alarm didn't ring and now he was going to be late, _again_ , and that he still hadn't finished that one scale model _and—_

 _And yeah—_ not really the best time to be thinking about _school projects_.

Young _stupid_ Clay needs to _zip it up_ so that Sixteen can finish writing his report and place it in the king's records.

The next hour passes slowly, Clay has finished the fake reports but he has to get Cor's approval since he's the one that knows more about how they are supposed to look and sound.

So he started grabbing some of Desmond's glyphs and opened a new _wordpad_ document to type his translations.

Desmond is getting better at— whatever it is he does to find the symbols though it's still kind of a long shot to translate the entire page.

The best they have are _keywords_ and what sounds like names.

"Let's hope _Highness_ and company know something in here," Desmond had circled a couple of words, meaning Clay had to mark them as important.

' _Wall Breaker: Failure'_ and ' _Daemon: Failure, still trying'_ were some of the most notable ones. If only because they glowed _golden_ — until they _didn't_.

"Oh, mother of—" Clay muttered as he tried to turn Eagle Vision back _on_.

Because now he had Eagle Vision. _And it was a lot harder to use than he thought_. One moment everything would be fine but then it would flicker _on_ and _off_ and it gave Clay a mother of a _headache_.

He felt something warm on the small of his back— rubbing circles slowly.

"Don't try to force it— _breathe_ , close your eyes and let go—" Desmond's voice has no right in being this soothing but _it is_. Clay closes his eyes and feels the pull of mind-numbing _blankness_ that comes with turning it off. It feels like he loses _something_ — it's like everything _feels less_. 

Colors are somehow duller, or sounds seem less vibrant, his skin feels too _loose_ for his skin and his tongue feels _dusty_ and there's all of a sudden something wrong with the smell of the room.

When he opens the world is the same but it's _not_ — because ever since _unlocking,_ because that's what happened— ever since unlocking Eagle Vision his world view has very literally changed.

"Sixteen?" And Clay spaced out. _Again_.

"Right— sorry, what— What were you sayin'?" _Stupid_ _precursor bullshit and their stupid psychic bullshit_. And now Clay couldn't focus because the world _felt_ wrong and _dull_ and this was so going to bite them in the ass and _why can't he turn this thing on_ —

" _Sixteen_ _look at me"_

And then there was a hand holding his chin directing his gaze and— and it was Desmond in front of him then and Clay didn't want to look at him because the stupid _psyched_ part of his brain will say that there was something wrong with how Desmond felt or looked and Clay just couldn't fathom himself thinking about that because it was Demond the prettiest idiot he has ever met and he doesn't think he wants to associate the word ' _wrong_ ' with Desmond.

But he has no choice but to look at Desmond's babyface and he braces for the inevitable feeling of _wrong_. But there's nothing. Nothing that yells at him that something is _not right_. Just Desmond. Perfect pretty Desmond staring at him with mild concern and Clay notices he hasn't quite looked at Desmond since they— _well, came to existence._

His eyes are bigger for one, Clay's too, it made them both look _younger_ if that was even possible. Desmond's eyes were kind of light yellow, not the intense golden-amber they had. Clay's eyes were similar, lighter yellow-green.

The hair was different too, longer— at the back it almost reaches their shoulders but it gets shorter at the front where they have _bangs_ — kind of like a tilted bowl-cut that somehow doesn't look like _shit_. Desmond is darker than he is by some tones, _nothing_ near the Adonis level tan he had. 

To their credit, they are pretty well proportioned— Clay didn't look half _this_ pretty beck when he was five. He looked like a goblin— _he saw the family photos_. He had longer arms and legs, an inch or two longer than they should be— a tiny little thing that made him look and _feel_ like a freak.

Baby fat still clung to them making them _squishier_ , made their— _everything_ rounder, softer. If Clay's staring bothers Desmond he doesn't say it. 

They were _lighter_ in one word. Lighter skin, eyes, hair— if Clay had been _pale_ before, he was downright ghostly white now even his hair was closing into white and— are those—?

"Are those freckles on your face?" Clay reached out and turned Desmond's confused face this way and that.

After that, they both got into the king's walk-in closet and yes— they both had _freckles_. Rather light to be honest— curiously, Desmond's were the most notable between the two— darker, if fewer. Clay's were lighter but there were _so fuckin many_.

And also—

"You know I always did want a _little brother_ " Clay blurted out with a shit-eating grin as he shoved Desmond with his shoulder.

Desmond rolled his eyes but shoved back with a small smile " _Gross Sixteen—_ you have literally been inside of me _"_

"Inside of your _mind—_ you're the gross one" they shoved at each other playfully and stared at the mirror.

Colors aside they looked like someone grabbed a child and copy-pasted a _twin_ next to it. Just change the color palette and _voilà_ you have two versions of a kid.

They walked back into the room still shoving at each other and settled back down to work. Desmond had glyphs to find and magic to master and Clay had code to do and glyphs to translate.

All in all, this wasn't such a bad life if they were honest. Soft beds, warm meals, a roof over their heads and sunlight streaming through the window— new tricks for Desmond to master and coding to help Clay focused, interesting company too.

Too bad it couldn't last.

* * *

Regis stepped out of his car and pulled up his scarf, it was cold this early in the morning, the sun was still sleeping beyond the horizon— the streets were dark and desolate too, _depressing_.

Sighing, he shook his head and stepped out of the way as Desmond and Clay climbed out of the car, pulling on their clothes trying to ward off the cold. Desmond pulled down his hood and zipped it all the way up— then he went to help Clay with his own, seeing he was too cold to do it himself. Cor stepped out of the driver's seat and went to the trunk to pull out several small luggage bags along with a small blanket.

Desmond took the blanket from Cor with a mouthed 'thank you' and covered Clay and himself with it and made their way behind the man.

Over the last month, the both of them had developed a strong bond with the man, with all of them, but it somehow ran deeper with Cor. It may have something to do with the fact that the man had helped them escape, and cared for them in his own _awkward_ way— he could have just left them _somewhere_ as soon as they landed— could’ve just left them at the King’s doorstep and be done with them and their _powerful_ _magical_ ways— Hell, he could’ve dumped them into another lab, throw them as _soldiers_ for the apparent war that was brewing.

But he did none of those. 

Instead, he brought them snacks and began taking them out to see the city, the tourist hotspots while he tried to pretend he wasn't having fun with their antics. Like when they both lost Clay in the technological district one night, and Cor hoisted Desmond up so he could use Eagle Vision to find him.

It took them ten minutes to find him in the crowd, and another ten to _catch him_. It was getting close to their bedtime and Desmond was already starting to feel the pull of sleep, no doubt Clay was too— but he was fighting it with the sheer force of will of a _stubborn five-year-old_. All the tech and shiny things were enough for him to resist the pull of exhaustion.

Until Cor caught him too.

Clay had tried to get away but after a while, he too started dozing off. Desmond didn't remember the ride back, and if he saw the picture Regis took of Cor carrying them both into their shared room and the rest of the gallery of the man tucking them in, or the blurry ones of Cor running towards _the camera_ — _he never says_.

 _Well, maybe he did tell Clay_.

Other than the prince and Reggie— they actually got used to calling him that, they spent most of their time with Cor— Clarus having his duties as both councilman and father, made them see him less. Cor had even taken them to watch recruits train at the training grounds. Desmond learned a couple of tricks from watching before his skin started to itch to grab a weapon, his ancestors wanting to teach him their skills through the feel of a sword in his hand.

Clay got a bit _jittery_ too, feeling the odd pull of it too and muttering something around the lines of _'I don't even like fighting why are you all like this'_ and once the grounds were empty Cor lent them some of the training swords and watched in awe as they moved around the training dummies, testing the weight of the weapons before unleashing a flurry of attacks that were far too precise and powerful for two _children_. It quenched something in both of them that they didn't know they were starving from. Their ancestors came through one by one as golden phantoms eager to teach them if only a little thing before they had to step aside.

It startled them when Alexios was the one to step up first, the man looked around warily, his eyes settled on Cor and watched him for a moment before deciding that he wasn't going to _bother_ with him. He drilled a complex footwork technique into them and then mixed it up with a series of jabs and hits and _leaps_.

Out of the corner of his eye Desmond saw Cor moving _slightly_ , the man was trying to learn the movements but not wanting to be on the end of Alexios' blade for moving too much _swinging a heavy sword_. But the spartan still noticed him, he looked confused before he _growled_ and strode to him. Cor wasn't in any danger though, they figured after Alexios blurted something that sounded like ' _If you're going to attempt and copy you're not half-assing it coward, stand your ground and face me'_ Desmond didn't know if Cor understood or not but he began to replicate the movements until perfection.

They began to do some light training together after that.

It had been nice for all of them, for Desmond and Clay to scratch the itch to hold a weapon and for Cor to learn whatever the phantoms were willing to teach him. A couple of times Reggie and Clarus joined them— there were some tensions at first, _with Altaïr_ , since the man did attempt to murder the King. But Altaïr had outgrown himself— beyond the _master assassin_ the brotherhood reminded him as, he was a teacher, and if he saw something in them that made him want to share his knowledge, they weren't going to reject it.

They grew close in that _‘I hang with you because I want to and not because I have no choice'_ kind of way. None of them ever questioned them openly about their very obvious fighting knowledge, or their tendency to call each other _numbers_.

Cor once approached Desmond after a training session with Kassandra on weird _Isu magic_ that Regis managed to adapt to his own magic and was working on helping Clarus and Clay with it.

"I know there's a part on your stories that you still aren't telling us— and I won't pry any more than this but," he had placed a hand on Desmond's shoulder as he looked at the training grounds with a relaxed expression Desmond couldn't fully read, "We— _I'm here_ , if you ever feel like talking about it" He left it at that before going over and getting his _ass handed to him by the mercenary._ Desmond spoke about it with Clay and they both agreed that _maybe one day_ , they could tell them the whole truth. As far as the two of them knew the truth to be.

So they both stood beside him and watched as a car came into view. Not as fancy as Reggie's _Regalia_ , still nice— but not _Regalia nice_ ; a bit more modern looking, black with white accents.

It parked some spots next to them before the engine was turned off. A man and a woman stepped out of the car, they both wore black flowy outfits with blue accents here and there, the man reached into the backside and pulled out a pair of coats and tossed one to the woman, before putting on the other. Their long greying hair betrayed their true age, the man's styled in neat, _plush_ boxer braids held by blue ribbons and small yellow and pink flowers that seemed to clash with the _stern_ look on his face; the woman's was a bit like a crown, she had smaller braids that would swing with her every step, hers too was held by ribbons and little blue and yellow flowers, her features were light and while her mouth was held in a practiced line, there was a hint of a warm smile that reached her eyes.

" _Majesty,"_ they both bowed some respectful steps away, their voices ringing pleasantly in the air. Regis signaled for them to rise with a movement of his hand and this is about the first time Desmond notices that Reggie is, _in fact_ , a King. His movements are firm but not _rigid_ , his posture is confident and proud— one that demands attention and during all this time they hadn’t really been able to witness him acting like, _well, like a King_. No longer the guy who cheated at _card games_ ; or the one that _teleported_ across the room to get the last _pringle_ — not the first time it happened, judging by how hard Clarus and Cor tried to beat him to it; or the guy who loved to brag about his child whenever he got the chance. He hadn't really seen King Regis until now, it was always _Reggie the_ _dork_.

_Too bad things couldn't have stayed like this._

Regis, Clarus, and Cor had things to do— lives to get back to. Desmond and Clay were outsiders, in more ways than just being _refugees_.

_But it has been decided— by all of us, at that, that we're both safer hidden and as far away from the press and royalty as we can'_

After all, they couldn't just let their exposure spark a _war_. Not much of an _assassin_ thing to do if he was honest— got to war? Sure. Have a war happen because of their existence? _Hmm_. _Well…_

"Desmond, Clay," That was their cue. They walked the short distance and stood in front of Regis, facing the couple who were looking at them curiously, "These are Felix and Cecile Arendt, they are siblings, good friends of mine— who have agreed to take you in," the shaky breath that followed was very obviously missed by the pair, instead Regis nodded to them and the woman bent down to greet them with a small _respectful_ nod.

 _"Hello there,_ I'm Cecile and this," She nodded to the man, he bent down with a bit of a sheepish look, "—is my brother, Felix, he might look a bit like a _jerk_ with that mug of his” the man just huffed rolling his eyes, “but he’s nicer than that,”

The man gave them the same gesture, " _Felix_ _Arendt,_ pleased to make your acquaintance— pay no mind to my sorry excuse of a sister" he shot Cecile a look when she pouted with a muttered ' _no need to be mean_ ', "She can be a bit of an _airhead_ sometimes too, but that won't be a cause for concern"

Desmond blinked and looked at them in a world of black and white the two of them showed blue. At least they could trust them.

Regis bent down as the two straightened out and kept their gazes anywhere but on the King. He put a hand on each of their shoulders, giving them a light squeeze.

"The Ardents have been allies of the royal family for generations, and it is no different this time," he said the last part giving the siblings a warm look that they returned with a tiny smile, "You will be safe with them, _boys_ , they are skilled warriors themselves— I'll still send some soldiers over, for now, and we'll see how this plays out" he squeezed a bit harder and Desmond turned around to face him.

It took them both by surprise when Regis pulled them in for a hearty hug, but neither tried to break it off. It was… _nice_. Grounding, in a way, made them feel something akin to _safety_ — a feeling long forgotten by them. They returned it after a second, each wrapping an arm around the man.

When they broke out it was with the tiniest tinge of sadness, Regis was the first to speak, "Desmond, Clay, take care out there— stay strong and be brave, but keep your smarts in you; grow up and soak in all the experiences you'll live and—" his voice had a subtle quiver, and if his eyes looked glassy, no one said a word, "grow strong boys, keep moving forward and I— I'll too, so that this isn't a _goodbye_ but a _see you soon,_ we'll be in touch, _until then— be safe"_ the determination in his eyes left them no doubt this wasn't going to be the last time they saw the King.

The man stood up and that was it.

Desmond looked back at them and offered them a sad smile. It was for the best, for everyone, if they just blended in with the _normal_ folk.

They had to go.

* * *

_They shared a hug with Clarus and Cor too, it was a bit more awkward, but nice still. The two of them had helped them through this all, always with a silent understanding that shone through their actions._

_Clarus, apologized to them, about that time in the hallway when he pointed his blade at them. And the two of them assured him that they didn't hold a grudge, not anymore anyway, after all, they did kind of conjure a small army of very dangerous ghosts that could have harmed Regis and, well, everyone else for that matter._

_And both men thanked them, for the training and the small memories, for keeping their King and friend company when he was going through a hard time. In a way, they all grew from each other, even if it wasn't that obvious now._

_Neither of the children cried, but the sadness that filled their eyes and core wasn't something they could hide that easily. After all, the three men had been the closest thing to a family either of them had experienced, animus experiences aside, this was a connection they would treasure for as long as their existence in this world lasted._

_Until they all met again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was like, the hardest one to write so hard because I’ve had projects due in the past week and my creative juice got drained.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On normal lives, world history and shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Desmond's and Clay mystery decoding abilities: 
> 
> Desmond can see the core essence of the coded writings so Eagle Vision sums it up and makes a glyph out of it, Clay can read them because of how his mind morphed to work with magic influence.
> 
> On their language proficiency:
> 
> Clay wanted to see if all the languages that were popping into their heads could somehow aid them in learning new ones, and if so, with how much ease.

Life with the Arendt _twins—_ because of course they were twins, Felix being the younger twin ' _by just one fucking minute and she doesn't ever shut up about it'_ according to Felix _—_ it wasn't all that bad. They had a roof over their heads, food, water and pretty much _anything_ they could ever need. Sure, it wasn't the modern and antique mix of Reggie's castle— but it was far better than anything either of them ever had.

They didn't really get to look around much upon arrival since they were quickly falling asleep as they were walked into a room _with beds_. That was about all they cared at the moment. Now though, with the sun shining bright and food on their bellies, _they wanted to look around._

A nice big apartment on the top floor of a tall complex, had a bit of a modern-minimalistic style to it— simple but classy wooden furniture for the living room and dining space, with a couple statues and books.

"We know it's not the _Citadel_ , but it's our _home_ — and we hope it becomes yours too, _Highnesses_ " Cecile walked them through the house while Felix took their bags to their room.

It was stylish, the whole place. The walls had light colors, whites and beiges for the most part, but all had nature-themed decals— Cecile's had nice royal blue accents with some silvery mountain designs painted, if they looked closely they could see small houses too by the bottom of it, while Felix's had dark green walls with golden vines and roses painted around, his too, seemed to have a small rural landscape hidden in it, their beds had similar palettes, with plush blankets and pillows.

So it wasn't a surprise that their room was about the same, the surprise was that theirs had _eagle_ decals. Well, not eagles, but similar enough. It was _cute_.

Felix was inside unpacking Desmond's clothes and hanging them neatly on the low rack in the closet, there were already some clothes in there, Desmond noted, _Lucian black,_ he had heard Cor say something about black being the color of Lucis. Also, a lot of hoodies which probably s _houldn't_ make them as happy as it did.

"Well," Felix got up from where he was crouching and came up to them, "That's about it— it might look a bit empty now, but I'm sure you two will find new things to fill it up— _Ah_ , right," he stood up and grabbed a couple of black boxes by one of the desks, " _His Majesty_ sent them," he gave each one a box and Cecile made little noises to encourage to open them.

Inside the carefully wrapped boxes were a pair of _cellphones_ and two little bands of sorts, _black_ with little blue accents and a sigil they had seen in Cor's and Clarus' uniforms— a warrior of sorts, with wings and surrounded by swords. Even at first glance Desmond could tell they were _something else_ , and he was no technophile.

Clay, on the other hand, was _this close_ to losing his shit over it, rambling about how light it was and how fast it booted up and that it was practically a laptop and he was itching to _disassemble_ it.

Cecile came down to them, next to Felix and pulled her phone out, they were similar models— Clay's and Desmond's was an upgraded version, clearly.

"Crownsguard Grade phones, ours is an older version, but they still work like a charm— I'm guessing yours is a new type," She said, looking it over as much as she could.

The two siblings walked them through all the safety measures and the _exclusive_ apps that the phone hosted, there was an internet browser and several chat apps, along with the traditional phone apps for contacts and SMS. It had a camera, unlike Cecile's and Felix's, high resolution too, _with filters_ — which, useless but cool.

Felix hummed as he skimmed through the manual and grabbed one of the bands "These are _locators_ , kind of like trackers but they send wide _radio waves_ , they also double as watches and—" his eyes widened before he continued "—come with pre-installed _debit cards_ , so you just wave it at the store's tag reader and it's supposed to work— _Ah_ , though you can't make payments for items exceeding... _fifty thousand yen_ , _"_ Felix still looked a bit taken aback, fifty thousand yen— which, _were they similar to the 'yen' they knew or just a coincidence?_ — fifty thousand yen sounded like a lot of money.

"Anyway," Felix continued, "I doubt you two will need to purchase anything exceeding _fifty thousand yen_ , though— do tell us if you do, might make it less, _uh_ —" he trailed off looking for the words.

"Gotta keep it low don't we, can't be raising alarms," Desmond said and began putting the case on his phone and the band on his wrist— he wasn't too keen on the whole _tracker_ thing, but he and Clay were in the bodies of _children_ , and neither had a full grasp on their magic capabilities, nevermind physical skills that they wouldn't be able to use to their fullest. _Backup was backup, he supposed_.

But for now, time to figure out where to put the phone. _Geez—_ their pockets were a bit too small for the thing.

Felix handed them some more stuff and soon enough they had small belts with their phones secured nicely to them. Desmond pulled his phone from the sheath-like holder they had on their sides, it had a retractable line secured to the end of it, kind of like those in a fishing rod that reeled back when they sheathed them, likely to prevent whatever slips may happen.

Cecile helped them straighten it up and they were good to go.

"Now why don't you two get ready and we can head out!" Cecile cheerfully ushered in front of the closet while she held several outfits in front of them. Clay glanced a look at Felix about to ask for help but the only thing he saw was the strands of silver hair disappearing into the corridor— _the traitor_.

In the end, Desmond came out wearing blue jeans, and a simple white tee with a dark red hoodie on top and matching sneakers plus a black glove on his right hand, Clay went for the same blue jeans, but a black tee and a dark brown jacket and small brown boots— much to Cecile's dismay, _she wanted to dress them in all the pastel shirts and hoods she got them._

Their _retainers_ — since that's what they called them and they did so themselves, _affectionately somehow_ — they changed themselves too, Felix wearing an ensemble similar to Clay's, black dress shirt, dark brown slacks, and a dark green long jacket, while Cecile wore a nice pastel blue turtle neck with yellow chains attached to it and white slacks, paired up with a light grey long coat and pastel pink sneakers. Curiously enough she sort of blended in with them no color clashing amongst them. The pair even paired some fake flowers woven around their head. Desmond let Felix give him one braid, _seemed fun_. Clay gave in to Cecile for another too after some begging. They got some flowers too.

"So, where are we going?" Desmond asked, seeing as Clay was a bit too busy with his high tech phone to care, they were already in the car. Felix got onto the passenger seat while Cecile got on the driver's.

Cecile looked back at them from the rearview mirror with a wide grin and began to pull out of the parking spot. Felix reached an arm out and turned on the radio and paired his phone into it— _Bluetooth_ , nice.

"We're going to give you the full _tourist experience,_ " she said, and they were off.

By the end of the day, the two were dragging down their feet until Felix offered to carry them— they played it cool for a solid _twenty_ minutes saying they were fine. Clay was the first to give in.

" _Oh fuck it—_ if you're still offering I do want to be carried _please_ " Clay had stopped on his tracks and Felix just chuckled, pointedly ignoring the curse, and hoisted him on his shoulders. Desmond lasted another hour before Cecile offered too.

"I may look like a _delicate flower—"_

"You don't—"

" _Hush! You menace,_ " she hissed at Felix who gracefully dodged her fist while swaying Clay lightly, "but I can lift my own weight so do let me carry you," Desmond thought this was less about his tiny legs giving out and more about Cecile wanting to carry either of them. So Desmond got carried too.

They went to some parks and busy highways to see some strange monuments and statues that the two siblings explained to them. Apparently they were statues of the older Kings and Queens of the country, those whose deeds had made it past their lifetimes and shaped their present and heroic things like that.

"What's with the armor then?" Clay asked and, yes, the armor looked a bit _too_ _extra_ , even for them.

They looked at each other, clearly not expecting _that_ question. Felix was the first to speak.

"Honestly, _we don't really know—_ there are stories about it, how their spirits morph into a new shape after they _ascend_ into the _Crystal_ ," he looked apologetic as he tried to look up at them, still perched on their shoulders, "Something about their spirits taking on another form after leaving their old one"

_So, spirits are a thing here. Good to know._

They went to a museum tour too and, Desmond found, _history does repeat itself, even across different worlds._

Turns out that everything he knew and was starting to learn from _old Earth's history_ wasn’t going to be useless knowledge in this Eos' history. All he needed to do was switch some names here and there, change the dates to a couple _thousand years and then some more_ and everything was about the same. Rome was a _thing_ in this world, it just went through another name, the _coliseum_ didn't have lions and gladiators, instead, it had creatures that seemed to have come right out of a bad _acid trip_. The industrial revolution still happened, albeit faster, since the old Monarchs could harness the power of electricity by up to two thousand years earlier than Desmond's reality could, they figured out their uses and sped the processes along. 

If anything, war was the thing that didn't quite match, there were fewer wars for one, most spoke about how the _Gods_ ended them for the humans for a while, until recent years— made it seem like the Gods had decided to take a break and left humanity to do as they wished.

_Nice to know that, in some aspects, humanity and the supposedly divine are consistent. Joy of joys. Desmond mused as they moved on to the next exhibition._

Over the week they did outings like that. Going out to eat, take a stroll around the neighborhood and the nearby parks, eating at home— _the bickering_ amongst all of them. It was nice. Sometimes Desmond caught something moving in an alleyway and turned on Eagle Vision only to find bright blue spots all around. Seemed like Regis was _serious_ about having some of his guards follow them. They never approached them and neither Felix nor Cecile ever mentioned them. So eventually Desmond just got used to feeling their presence.

Their phones had several contacts in them already. The medical hotline, the police's number, Felix's and Cecile's, _a couple of takeout places_ — and Clarus' and Cor's numbers. Also, they had been added to a chat with the later, plus an _unknown number_. The first texts had started formal, Desmond and Clay reported their status, someone would ask them how they were and if they needed anything else. They did this a couple times a day for the next couple of months.

Until the _unknown number_ began sending videos and photos into the chat of a very familiar bundle of midnight hair and bright blue eyes.

_'Regis for fuck's sake' Cor, at one point._

_'What?' Regis, shortly after. Adding a confused, animated avatar of himself._

_'We told you that this was for official use only, stop sending us your kid's photos' Clarus, lastly 'Also where did you get those things?' In reply to the cartoon version of the King._

_'I downloaded them, I also got yours too'_

After that it was Regis _spamming_ stickers of himself, the King's Shield— Clarus, and the Marshal's— Cor's, in _rapid-fire_. The stickers were actually pretty accurate.

Desmond and Clay took for themselves some cartoon creatures, Desmond, _naturally_ , took the bird's package— while Clay just rolled everything else.

It wasn't long before they started to receive videos of Clarus and Regis teaming up to _prank_ _Cor_. The funniest one was of them sneaking into his office to hide several _bluetooth_ speakers and playing really low annoying music, they left a phone all the way over the highest shelf that gave them a view of _everything_. At first Cor hadn't noticed, but halfway through the video he was nearly tearing apart the place with something _loud_ and _unintelligible_ in the background and there were already _ten speakers_ smashed to pieces on the floor.

Not a day later it had been Cor posting a video of both Regis and Clarus covered in _feathers_ and _glitter_ and trying to get rid of each other because, somehow, Cor had managed to glue them together by their dress shirts. The video ended with a dark shot of the two men walking around with _curtains_ wrapped around themselves.

So Clay and Desmond started sending their own photos and videos— in the beginning, they didn't know what to send, so it started off a bit like awkward selfies and pictures of food. But it didn't take long for them to morph into sneaked photos and videos of them with one of the other twins.

Half a year had already passed through before they knew it. The Arendt twins eventually relaxed on them, finally stopping with the titles and formal speech.

_[Clay added a photo]_

_Clay: Look what we caught_

Clay and Cecile— in bright yellow _chocobo suits_ , were taking a selfie with a very sulky Felix with a Desmond on his lap, both wearing _black chocobo suits_. The photo was a bit blurry but it was pretty obvious _whose_ idea that had been if Cecile's smug face was anything to go by.

_Reggie: How did you even get him to wear that? I tried for years to invite him to costume parties and he always got away._

Regis added a couple of stickers of _himself_ pouting.

Instead of answering, Clay just uploaded a video of Cecile _wrestling_ Felix into the floor with the top _half_ of the chocobo suit on and Desmond chilling down next to him with his already on. There was a lot of yelling and Desmond's sure he cursed every appendage of every _god._

_'Shiva's tits and Ifrit's cock— Get off of me!' Felix, in the video._

_'Stop wriggling you sandworm! Clay get the net!' Cecile, sitting on Felix's back trying to shove him into the bottom half of the suit._

_'On it'_

_'THE WHAT?!'_

Desmond didn't have anywhere to go when the net fell on them so he just sat through it.

Cor chimed in after some minutes of Regis spamming laughing stickers.

_Cor: Where did you even get those suits?_

_Clarus: Do not tell him._

_[Desmond shared an address]_

_Desmond: They have so much stuff._

_Clarus: For fuck's sake._

If later that month they both get videos of the trio trying to track down all of their clothes in animal onesies walking around the Citadel at night, no one speaks of that. Well, maybe they do.

Regis does post more than a couple of pics of him and his kid in matching _Carbuncle_ onesies.

_Regis: They are pretty comfy._

Next thing they know they are all sending pictures of themselves in onesies because they’re actually pretty comfy.

Eventually, Felix and Cecile had to go back to work, the pair had taken the weeks as paid leaves for _'Dealing with family matters'_ not a _lie_ now, but not the full truth, good thing no one pried.

Cecile, it turns out, is part of the current ruling council as the spokeswoman of the Galahdian refugees. While Galahd was part of Lucis, since Niflheim occupied the lands and people started migrating into the mainland and Insomnia, many of the natives are strongly prejudiced against them. She does her best to attend to the best interests of her people and, while to Desmond and Clay she might be a _brat_ , turns out she chooses what kind of _shit_ she's willing to take. And from _who_.

Felix, on the other hand, is one of the lead mechanics that work on maintaining the _magic catalysts_ that help distribute energy for the Wall that covers Insomnia.

Both of them came into Insomnia as refugees and enlisted in the crownsguard, as their parents had done for King Mors. They met Regis at the training grounds, back when he was a prince in training, he saw their potential and added them as part of his retinue before noticing that their talents would be wasted on the battlefield. So he recommended Cecile as the next Galahdian councilwoman and saw to her training and education, while he scored Felix an internship under a prestigious researcher, turned out that Felix had an affinity for infusing _magic_ into machines. So the schematics for the current _mana stabilizers_ are some of his designs, made for amplifying the King's magic to maintain the wall while reducing the burden it put on Regis.

They both owed much to the man, and they sought to repay that kindness in the only way they could at the time, with unwavering loyalty.

At first, they had been worried about what to do with the two children, the whole point of them taking in _'the bastard princes'_ was to maintain some secrecy— at least until they were sure Niflheim wasn't going to try and snatch them into their labs again.

"Are you sure you two will be alright by yourselves?" Cecile asked as she got ready to leave, it was barely closing in on _seven_ _a.m._

" _Yes we'll be fine,_ besides we got Felix today too," Felix only worked four days a week and even then he did so from home, only called in when something too sensitive happened to one of his machines _—_ _one of his babies_ , "We'll be fine so _go already_ " Clay finished shoving Cecile out of the way and through the door.

"You two sure get along," Desmond peeked through the hallway that led to the bedrooms with a big messy mat of _bed hair_. It was everywhere he needed to get a cut soon.

"Lookin good I see," was Clay's answer to it, which made Desmond ruffle out his hair in an attempt to settle it down, "You kinda look like a porcupine— Oh wait! A chocobo, you look like one of those"

Desmond just grumbled under his breath " _You're a chocobo_ " his hair wasn't unharmed by _sleep_ but it wasn't as bad as Desmond's. They made a beeline for the kitchen where something _good_ was smelling.

Felix was lounging about in an oversized pastel pink shirt and loose black pants stirring some eggs in a pan and some tea in the kettle. His hair was a little better than theirs, the length making up for whatever _bush_ he woke up to and gravity doing its thing and smoothing it out, if anything, it was his braids that were sticking at odd angles.

"How do you three even wake this early, _I used to sleep until noon when I was your age—_ " he broke off the sentence with a long and hearty _yawn_ , _"Astrals above, that was a long one"_

They all sat down to eat in comfortable silence, out of the twins, Felix was the one that had the touch for cooking, anything he made he could probably make it look like a five-star course.

"I swear that woman could burn water if left alone" Felix had told them once, and honestly, seeing how she set on fire _instant noodles_ just three days ago— they knew better than to leave her alone in the kitchen.

Once they were fed, Clay went on and grabbed a small stool and began doing the dishes while Desmond worked around putting them away, Felix excused himself to take a call in his studio, a room on the far end of the hallway, doubled as a small library and weapon storage.

"Desmond, Clay— come over here please" Felix peeked into the kitchen looking serious all of a sudden. With a strange tension building up in the air they followed into the studio.

Felix beckoned them to the sofa in there and sat across them. The man sighed and rubbed his face a bit.

"The Marshal contacted me just now, and brought something to my attention," he let his eyes fall down and while his expression softened, there was a hint of guilt and _something else_ , "Truth be told, I had been meaning to ask you two about it— but the last few days had been kind of _the best_ I've had in a long time and it sort of— _it escaped my mind_ , it's been a little over half a year since you two have settled in with us and—" he took a breath and looked at them with a bright glint in his eyes, "Well, I was wondering— How would you two feel about attending school?"

* * *

To their credit, they lasted two solid weeks.

"How much longer of this do we have to endure—" Clay had been whining non-stop ever since Desmond picked the lock to the rooftop and they settled down to have an _early lunch_. Desmond munched on his salad while looking around.

"It's the second week, granted we jumped some grades and we landed in the middle of the cycle so we still have, _um_ — around _four to five-and-a-half more years and that's only to finish until middle school_ "

" _Kill me, burn me, and throw me into the river"_ Clay sighed dramatically, rolling around before lying down sprawled and settling for looking into the sky.

" _Been there, done that_ — it's not that bad in here," Clay turned his face to face him with a dumbfounded look "What, too soon?" Well, Desmond had been _killed, burned_ and maybe even thrown into a river— for all he knows anyway. 

" _Not too soon but still—_ " Clay sighed and reached out to put a hand over Desmond's thigh, " _That_ got real dark real fast,"

Desmond just shrugged and laid down too, scooting to be more leveled with Clay so that his hand rested on his chest. They stayed like that for a while, basking in the sun like a pair of cats, watching the clouds move by above their heads. Desmond didn't even twitch as he heard the sound of familiar footsteps approaching, didn't give in any sign to Clay— didn't want to disturb him when he was finally settling down. He had been switching between anxious and downright annoyed for the past week, barely getting his breath back after he began switching between the _old Clay Kaczmarek_ , the university student and _Subject Sixteen_ , the assassin. Eventually, Clay heard the footsteps and sat up tense, Desmond just shuffled closer and crossed his legs .

"If it's not that bad why are you up here instead of in class?" Cor stepped into the rooftop with a stern expression, but when he saw them his eyes softened, "I'm actually surprised you held out this far— come here you two," he bent down and held open his arms. 

And they did, they stood up and walked to him— let the older man wrap them in a tight hug and returned it with as much sentiment as they could. When they parted they were all giggling and chuckling and they didn't know why.

"Good to see you too _old dog_ ," Desmond said, earning him a playful smack by the man.

"I'm not even thirty— settle down you brat"

"Didn't think of giving us a call, _old dog_?" Clay got swatted for that one too.

"Leave you alone a couple of months and you turn on me— _I'm hurt"_ Cor made a show of putting his hand over his heart and tried to give them _puppy eyes_ which on a man over six foot tall and a build that could— _and has_ taken on a _Behemoth_ , it just looked _ridiculous_.

He kept that stance for almost a full minute before he shook his head chuckling and stood up to walk over the spot they had been taking in the sun. Desmond and Clay followed and then the three of them laid down to take the sun in silence— Clay on Cor's right, and Desmond on the left, watching the clouds pass slowly. There was a nice breeze blowing by that nearly lulled them to sleep, the mix of the warm floor and the refreshing air relaxing them.

"I had hoped," Cor started, without tearing his eyes from the skies above, "I had hoped— you two could find your place among the civilians; go to a school, make friends, make rivals, join a club or whatever it is kids do these days…" Cor took a deep breath and held out his hand towards the sky, in a flash of blue sparkles his weapon materialized in thin air and he gripped it tightly, the sun catching on the sheath "I had hoped you two would find solace in normalcy— but that's not something you two can settle for, is it?" He brought the sheath to his chest and held it there.

Neither answered, but their silence was enough of a response.

All those months _absorbing_ knowledge from Felix's and Cecile's books, journals, browsing the net— then there was the matter of their ancestors, so keen in showing them their lives, passing their skills and experiences, the combination of their memories that culminated them in the figures they became. _The true origins of the Order of the Assassins._

With such an intricate network weaving itself on their brains…

There never was a way for the two of them to be able to live in normalcy among civilians.

Desmond just sighed while Clay shifted and turned his back to them, more intent in looking at the buildings in front of him.

"Would have nice, maybe, living like that—" he could imagine it, to some degree, making friends, making enemies, maybe getting into something like a track team, Clay scoring big time as a senior programmer, maybe in the gaming industry, going to Felix's and Cecile's and bicker like siblings.

_It would have been nice._

"But it's as you say— _that's not going to be the life we'll settle for_ " Desmond stood up and dusted himself off.

Cor just sighed, he felt a pang of sadness in his chest. He had known, since before they sent them away that these children wouldn't be growing like the rest their age. Still, he had hoped that, perhaps, they could give them some time to be _children_.

Clay stood up too and walked to stand next to Desmond, the two were like copies of one another right now, different palettes but the same mold.

Cor stood too, vanishing his _katana_ in a burst of blue sparkles, and walked to the fence that covered the roof, this school had a rather nice view of the Citadel, if he was honest.

" _Seven years_ , it's the minimum I'm going to ask of you two," he turned and let his eyes fall on them, _such small children and yet so burdened,_ too bad they seemed to be that in body only, "Finish your studies and get some certification— elementary school at the least, anything else, get it if you want to, homeschooling is also an option, do as you wish but lay low—" his eyes shone like icy pools under the sunlight "In seven years time I'll come for you two— you'll be up for the Crownsguard and out into the world"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cor can't ignore what he has pieced up on them anymore, and he'd rather be the one to guide them into the world they can't seem to run from.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting, meetings, meetings! Food is served, the King is shipped inside a box and let the military life begin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna say the harder part of this story is done, but that'd be a lie.  
> Also we finally getting to the part I've been wanting to get!!!  
> hehe

_'— as such, I present the Kingsglaive!'_

_'What you have heard today has been the official announcement from King Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII regarding the new soldier type: the Kingsglaive, we'll come back to you after—'_

Cor turned down the volume until it was barely a whisper in the air, the host's image remained in the TV, her lips moving but the contents of her speech irrelevant. Well, at least to the occupants in the room.

Desmond and Clay had changed so much since the last time he saw them _six and a half years ago_ , they weren't the fickle, _squishy_ little things he met in that facility during that infiltration mission.

Back then, they looked like mass-produced dolls, same face, same hair, same height, same build, only their colors were different. 

Now, he could barely recognize them, they were taller, broader and _sharper_ looking, somehow. They still had some baby fat clinging to them that smoothed their builds, nothing that they wouldn't burn within the next few years. 

Their hair and _hairstyle_ had changed too, long since turned into darker shades, Clay's wasn't white anymore, having warmed into a light golden hue, whereas Desmond's had outright changed into a deep brown; the both of them had galahdian undercuts now, each keeping a single braid that almost reached their shoulders. Their skins had warmed up somewhat, their freckles nearly invisible now— a pity truly, looked nice on them. But Cor very much rather see them like this, strong and healthy… _relaxed_.

They shifted their attention to the screen, they were displaying images of the King being escorted back inside the Citadel with a young boy in his arms, a mop of stylishly unruly midnight hair and royal blue eyes.

Cor just sighed sadly while looking at the screen, the King's posture and demeanor might project unyielding power and confidence— but the sadness in his eyes was blatantly obvious to those who knew him...

"So— the ghosts of the dead Kings have told Reggie that Bahamut, a.k.a _the Draconian_ has decreed that his son, _Prince Noctis,_ must sacrifice for the world to be rid of the very same _scourge_ that _they_ allowed to get into the Star in the first place?" Clay beckoned him with a _thoroughly_ annoyed expression— _pissed more like it_ , " _Why does that dance sound so familiar?_ " Cor, very pointedly ignored that last part, choosing to turn his attention on Desmond who was looking intently at his blackened hand.

"I'm in" his eyes were trained on the appendage and there was a silent determination in it that left no room for argument. But even a blind man could see the hint of sadness in his eyes.

Cor sucked in a breath and nodded, turning to the blond "Clay?"

Clay shrugged before shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth "If Desmond's in, I'm in"

Cor let out a shaky breath before bending down to lean his elbows over his legs and stared at his hands. Scarred and callused from years of fighting and training, marred all the way to his arms from the one-too-many close calls he had back when he was a reckless brat.

"I feel like I keep dragging you two into our problems," Cor bowed his head without taking his eyes from the floor. Ever since bringing them to Insomnia it had been these two doing one favor after another, "I- If I had just left you with Monica as soon as we came here then—"

"—Then we would've escaped wherever they tried to throw us in, and thieve our way into life before joining the Kingsglaive—" Clay was staring at him from with a knowing grin, " _— just chill, Cor_ " his grin was too contagious that it made Cor scowl at him before he started showing a grin of his own.

Desmond just hummed and reached out to him, putting a hand on his shoulder with a far firmer grip than what Cor expected.

"It's just how it is" Desmond shrugged before turning his attention back to the TV.

The reporters were showing the first Kingsglaives doing simple warping exercises around the city, warping in synch, blowing targets with impressive magic displays and deadly precision. Cor had gone over the show along with some professional gymnasts, they choreographed the routine together the gymnasts were there to make it look pretty while Cor was there to make sure no one pulled a muscle doing it.

"Looks pretty good— _warping_ , was it? _Cool_ " Desmond was looking intently at the screen where the cameras were doing their best to try and follow one of the soldiers across the street.

Clay perked up too, looking at the soldiers’ movements like they were a puzzle to be solved, "How does it work though? Warping I mean— 'cause they just— _whoosh,_ " he waved his arms around from left to right mimicking the movements.

Cor hummed pleasedly, "Something about following the magic currents that the weapons leave behind,"

"Magic currents? Like ocean currents?" Clay asked, stuffing his face with ice cream, again— _how did he even get ice cream that high oh his hair?_

Cor just sighed, amused, and passed him a tissue, "Yes, like ocean currents, when thrown, the weapons leave behind a trail that the users can follow or use in other ways" he beckoned them to the screen, a soldier seemed to be _jumping i_ n the air, throwing shurikens, before calling them back in flashes of blue, each time shifting his body further up "That one isn't following the trails, she's _jumping_ on them, by throwing them and suddenly calling them back it creates a denser current, because the magic influx on the area increases she can use it to propel herself higher, remaining in the air longer by standing by on the fresh trail—" the screen changed to some others wielding large polearms, moving lightning fast leaving blue sparks behind them.

"The ones with the spears do something similar, instead of outright throwing them, they use energy pulses to make shorter trails which allows them to glide through the air without letting go of the weapon—" The camera zoomed in and they could see it, how they thrust the spear in the air and then took off after a second, "makes up for a shorter warping but grants better maneuverability in combat, making up for a shorter recovery period on landing"

They spent the rest of the broadcast like that, with Cor explaining them how shared magic worked and what enabled them to move and accomplish feats that would be impossible without that connection with the King.

The afternoon drew by and Desmond proposed they went out to eat, Cor tried to refuse, saying it might draw too much attention but eventually swayed under Clay's pleading look.

"Come on!— We've been cooped up _all day,_ as much as I enjoy it," he shot Desmond a smirk which made the shorter man huff, "Desmond needs a _walk_ "

Desmond just rolled his eyes and went to grab his hood and put on a black leather glove _"What— Am I a dog or something?"_

Cor kept his mouth shut even after Desmond shot him a look that made his smirk harder to hide. While Clay seemed to be the most at ease at the apartment, with his laptop or phone or _whatever_ _he was building on his desk_ _—_ Desmond _clearly_ was in his element in the outside world.

Something about the way he walked around, the relaxed posture and unwavering stride, the curious twinkle of golden orbs that took in everything they rested upon and then some more. 

Cor caught on quickly on the route they took. The way they used the less stacked streets at the beginning before taking on the more stacked ones, everyone minding their businesses at the hour, no one being the wisest to Cor's presence or his company. He followed them in a bit of a trance across the sea of people, they separated a couple of times but before he could begin to look for either of the youths, they were right back at his side like they never were gone.

It was… _nice_.

* * *

They made it to an altissian restaurant through the back door, one of the cooks nearly dropped his plate when Desmond passed by him with a _cheeky_ grin. Clay did the same regarding the man with a finger to his lips before beckoning Cor with a tilt of his head.

_Now the cook did drop the plate when he saw Cor._

Luckily Cor caught the plate managing just a couple of drops on the floor, he left it in a metal cart before offering the man an apologetic nod. The man just blinked and looked around babbling something about _'Was that—? By the Six— W- what did those kids do now?'_

Cor followed the two of them upstairs to a deserted terrace, it had a couple of tables half set up but if the _'Closed Off'_ sign was anything to go by, this place wasn't available until later, at most. There was a man already up there— a short, thin old man with thick round glasses over his eyes and a simple white dress shirt with black slacks and black shoes was _flicking the two of them_ on the forehead with his fingers.

"Can't you two idiots come in _through_ the front door for once?!— _Astrals above,_ I should chop you off and serve you in a soup you _imps—_ " his voice was raspy but there wasn't any heat to his words. He looked at Cor and his eyes went wide and his mouth slack before his frown returned and went back to yelling at them some more before regaining some composure and turning to Cor.

He let out an annoyed sigh but a serious expression, "What, on the whole expanse of Eos, have these two _goblins_ done to attain _The Marshal's_ attention?"

"Why do you always assume it's _our_ fault?" Desmond asked innocently but there was a shine of _mischief_ in his eyes as he looked at Clay.

"Yeah, it could be _him_ for all you know—" Clay tried giving him puppy eyes but he looked like he might choke on his laughter any moment now. Desmond's grin just grew wider. _Imps_ indeed.

"Oh really? You want me to believe that whatever _this is—_ it's the fault of the C _ommander_ of the Crownsguard?" He quirked a brow at them before going back to Cor.

_'That did sound unbelievable, if my reputation is anything to go by anyway… though—'_

"Whatever fame these two have made themselves, I can assure you they aren't telling a lie right now," he said stepping up to the man who just regarded him with a huff before walking up to him.

"Well," he adjusted his glasses before standing straighter, his voice like steel, "Then what is it that brings the mighty _Marshal of the Crownsguard— The Immortal—_ Cor Leonis, to my humble restaurant?"

Cor winced internally at the use of the whole _title,_ he always did hate it. He recovered in a second looking at the scene before him. Looks like they did manage to act their age while he was gone, in a way at least. The two met his eyes, Clay was casually leaning an arm on Desmond's shoulder whispering something that made him roll his eyes but softened their expressions.

"Just… visiting some old _friends_ — isn't that right, _boys?_ " The two of them tensed slightly at his tone and managed to hide their smirks under coughs, Clay outright hid his face behind Desmond's shoulder. Their fair skin did little to hide the light blush creeping to their ears. Cor will need to remember this for _later_.

But for now.

The man shared a few looks between Cor and them before sighing, he threw his hands in a dismissive gesture before heading downstairs.

"The usual?" He asked with a quirk of his brow from the hallway that led to the stairs.

"Toss in some of those spicy noodles and some meat please," Desmond said walking over to sit at one of the tables close to the edge, Clay just leaned on him and walked like they were _glued_ together.

They made idle talk until their food arrived, thy told Cor about the old man— Victor, uncle of some of the guys they had started hanging out with at a park. Soon enough they had pizza and pasta of different types, some sweet and spicy noodles and a good slab of altissian style steak. They chatted some more, teased each other and Clay got a noodle and a meatball flung his way for a _really bad pun_.

When they finished laughing at some story or another that Cor had told them of the time they were apart.

"So he just _phased_ all over his office because of a _sneeze—_ _that's fucking cute_ —" Clay was wiping his face from where he snorted off soda all over himself.

" _It was_ fucking cute— not as cute as _His Majesty_ panicking though, he kept yelling at the guards to try and hold him, going as far as to try and contain him in a small shield" He laughed at the memory. When Noctis phased off his arms only to be caught by Clarus, Regis almost gave himself whiplash. After that they had to put the little prince down until his sneezing bout ended since there were only so many hands that could catch him mid-air.

They laughed about it for some more time, about how they had to _train_ Noctis to _phase_ and _warp_ on cue. _Because the little runt learned to warp by throwing objects around._

"What kind of tongue-twisting word is a _Midgardsormr_?" Clay asked after he finished whipping himself.

"One that not many in the guard can actually pronounce— much less the little prince, but you two can— _of course you two can,_ " he said that last bit with a bit of a scowl knowing it would not be forgotten anytime soon.

Once their laughter died down it was Desmond who spoke first, there was a calm ring to his voice, no fear no hesitation, just _calm_.

"When do we start?"

Cor sighed while Clay went to leaning back onto Desmond, they looked _cozy_.

"The council upped the 'Guard's minimum age up to fifteen, the 'Glavies can start as soon as eleven—" he couldn't keep his anger out of his mouth, _too young_ , younger than even him and that was when he wasn't supposed to go out on the field that soon, even him went out at _fifteen_. _Young, yes but not as young as they were going to get._

Regis managed to raise up the Crownsguard's enlistment age to fifteen— _finally_ , as he and Clarus had tried to do for years, but they couldn't save the Kingsglaive in the same way, instead, the new soldiers inherited their enlistment details.

"Part of the point of creating the 'Glaives was to— to finally get rid of the older than _fuck_ tradition of training _children_ … but the council intervened— not even Cecile could sway them, not Clarus— _not even Regis could… saying it was because of the incoming war— that we needed to prepare and—_ " the last part he only managed to whisper.

He felt a warm weight on his shoulder and when he looked up it was the two of them looking at him with warm eyes.

" _Assholes will be assholes—_ All of you did what you could with your hands tied behind your backs," Clay was still leaning onto Desmond with an odd look to him, "You did your best but being that high up the ladder each decision is met with sticks and stones"

Desmond squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, "If you fail— well you can just move forward and try again"

Cor let out a shaky breath, unable to find words to answer, _why was it always like this with these two—_

"I feel like I should be the one saying deep things between the three," he said with a tired sigh.

They stayed like that some more, hearing the loud chattering downstairs, the sounds of the streets but eventually separated when the owner came back. They said their goodbyes at the back door, shared a hearty hug. At this point, that last part was something like a habit for them.

As they separated and Cor headed for the main street Desmond called him out.

"Come by again! We still have six months to spare from the promise we made— bring the rest if you can, might be nice to get together casually"

They disappeared by the alley before Cor could answer.

_'Well… as far as requests go— that's a fairly easy one'_

* * *

_"—'Aight- 'aight, everyone here?— Welcome again to a new unboxing video— this time we have some special guests, say hi to the camera Marshal!—"_

_"Wha—?!"_

_"That was Marshal Cor and over here we have The Shield of the King, Clarus, say hi you too—"_

_"Careful! This is a 'delicate' package— oof"_

Said _delicate_ package just elbowed Clarus on the stomach.

_"Pfft— alright put it down over there, well let's introduce the rest, we have Galahadian Affairs Councilwoman Cecile—"_

_"Hello everyone! y'all doin' good?"_

_"— See? That's how it's done— Ah, and over here we've got Desmond and Felix—"_

_"—What's with that dry introduction?"_

_"—Rude…"_

_"— Moving on!—"_

_"Did we just get ignored?"_

_"We got totally ignored"_

_"—Prince Noctis, wave to the camera please?— damn that's cute— Ignis, Gladio, say hi you too— damn that's cuter— the little adviser and the little shield..."_

_"I'm not little!"_

_"Gladiolus, compose yourself"_

_"Alright I put the package down"_

_"Are you sure you put it right? Maybe it goes the other way around— Ugh— guess not"_

_"Desmond…"_

_"Alright, up you go little prince— Clay, just get on with it, Noctis is getting upset—"_

_"—Ignis come up here too"_

_"I doubt that's a good idea, Highness besides I don't think Desmond could carry the both of us—"_

_"Eh, not really a problem if one gets on my shoulders"_

_"… Fine"_

_"—up we go, you two are light"_

The sound of laughter filled the air before a dry _thump_ came from inside the box.

_"Alright everyone gather up, the moment we've all been waiting for— the unboxing of Regis Lucis Caelum!"_

Regis was met with a very familiar looking phone up to his face. He had to rub his eyes as the light hit him full on and he stepped outside of the very carefully wrapped box.

"Was this all _really_ necessary?" He asked stretching out before turning to Clay, who just shrugged at him, still recording him with the camera.

" _Not really_ — but it was funnier this way" the little _imp_ was a bit too nonchalant about shoving the King inside a box and have him hauled across half Insomnia.

"Dad! Dad! Carry me!" Noctis was trying to wriggle out of Desmond's arms and into Regis' but the teen’s grip seemed to be quite steady leaving Noctis no choice but to _phase_ into the ground and throw his Carbuncle plushie into Regis' arms.

"I got you! You little runt! What did I tell you about using your toys to warp around?" Regis' was laughing even as he held his child as high as he could, with Noctis giggling before settling into his arms.

"To tell you when I'm going to do a warp!" Noctis said, still giggling into his arms.

"That's a good boy" Regis ruffled his son's _already_ ruffled-out hair before greeting everyone. And elbowing Clarus, again.

"How's that for a _delicate_ package" he stuck his tongue out to Clarus who was picking up his own runt, much to Gladiolus' luck.

" _No comment"_

"—Dad put me down! I'm not a kid anymore!" The poor dark-haired boy just got wrestled onto his father's shoulders and had no other choice but to settle down with a pout.

Desmond felt Ignis giggle up above him, the young advisor adjusting his glasses trying to disguise his very obvious amusement, though he couldn't hide the way his light brown hair bobbed around.

Cor came into view holding some plates, with something that smelled _way too good_.

True to his unspoken promise— and, while none of them had expected this kind of reunion, they weren't complaining.

Felix was right behind him with some other dishes, there was a big slab of meat on one of those, _so juicy_ that there was a small pool of sauce under it and a _sweet-spicy_ smell filled the air. Cor brought some fruity drinks too in different jars, there was a dark purple one that had a sweet and sour— berry-like smell to it; a yellow one with red syrup settling at the bottom and orange slices floating around; Clarus pulled out some wrapped bottles of some fancy looking wine and settled them on the table too.

Desmond, Clay, and Ignis helped set the table too, bringing plates and cutlery— Ignis seemed to have some measure of fun on Desmond's shoulders so he didn't mind having the young boy up there, it meant having an extra set of hands too.

Once they were all seated Cor stood up with a glass of wine on his hand raised up.

"It's been _seven years_ since we last got together like this, though this time it sure is in far better circumstances and with some more company—" he looked at Felix and Cecile who just rose their own glasses to it before shifting to Gladiolus and Ignis— the two went so stiff it made their lips curl into a small smile.

"—This is quite the _special occasion_ , since we are celebrating Clay's and Desmond's enlistment in the Glaive," there was a tinge of sadness to his tone that was quickly swallowed by the _proud look_ he threw their way, "And their _graduations_ , for completing and receiving their diplomas all the way to _high school_ education," he rose his glass higher still, and they all did the same, Desmond and the kids with their own juice glasses, _"_ Here's a toast to hope that they will go easy on their peers at the training grounds—" that brought some laughter, from them all and Desmond and Clay elbowed each other trying to hide their sheepish grins behind it, "I have no doubt you'll make fine young men and— _And, I'm proud of you two as I'm sure everyone in here is— remember that"_

No one said anything about how glassy their eyes suddenly got, the kids blissfully ignored it too, not oblivious to the emotional nature of the encounter even if they didn't know when such a strong connection was made with a pair of boys that only looked a bit older than them.

A loud growl next to the King revealed a very _hungry_ Noctis that was trying to steal some of the small stuffed bread puffs from the plate closest to him.

Regis chuckled at his young prince's antics and simply passed him a puff, smiling softly at Ignis scolding about how he should use the cutlery.

"Well I'd say we best not let such good food get cold," Regis subtly rolled Noctis another puff and they all got to it after.

Making idle chat and bad jokes, Cor got thrown a puffball for one of those and Clarus got a bone thrown for _adding to it_.

Clay showed off their phones with the new upgrades he made, he even managed to build an external camera for Cecile's and Felix that plugged into the earphone entry.

But as the night waned on, so did the youngest's energies, and soon enough Noctis, Ignis and Gladio were slumped on the couch snoring softly. It was late enough that they didn't need to shove Regis back into a box.

They said their goodbyes like that last night at the parking lot nearly seven years ago.

And shared the photos and videos the next day over the chat, one in particular, not from their little reunion, of a very familiar _freckled blond with blue-violet eyes._

* * *

The next morning Desmond and Clay were dropped at the Citadel were one of the guards checked their passes and recommendation letters, signed by their guardians, plus Cor and Clarus— the King's seal would have brought too much attention but had Reggie been given his way, _he would have signed it_.

Desmond recognized some of the guards, even after seven years, they looked _grumpier_ now, but their laugh lines were enough to prove that it was only a practiced _annoyance_.

Their eyes crossed but they didn't recognize them, not like Desmond blamed them— he and Clay were slowly changing back into how they had been before all of this, the soft, pretty boys they had seen were nowhere in sight now. 

So they were led through the corridors of the maze-like castle until they reached a bigger hallway, there were some more members of the guard in front of a big double door.

"On the other side of that door is the sorting hall, you two will be given your schedules according to the documentation submitted," The guards stopped on their tracks and gave them a nod, "See you on the other side, _newbies_ "

The ceremony was short and to the point, they were given a speech on how the fate of Insomnia could be in their hands— if they passed the final test.

Then they were called one by one and divided into several groups, they were mixed in all ages so the picking order wasn't all that clear to Clay or Desmond so they just joined their group, Group A— mostly older teens and young adults, the two of them being the exception. 

"Group C, you will follow through the left gate and will spend the next six months getting your basic education diplomas— Group B, right gate, you will spend the next three months getting the last diploma of the basic education program," the man turned to their group, "Group A, you will begin your training right away, please follow me"

"What?!— Why do they get to start so soon?!" A young man, probably a couple years older than Desmond and Clay was yelling from group B.

The man just looked at him unimpressed before answering, "Why, because they all have already gotten their diplomas and necessary paperwork done of course,"

A boy no older than them jumped out too, "All of them?! What about those two kids huh?! Tryna' tell me they don't belong here in group C?"

"Like I said, all in group A have finished their basic educations program," he did spare the two of them a suspicious look but made no comment and they did the same trying to act as oblivious to the looks they were getting, "You two, escort A and B to their class and hand them their schedules," two of the guards saluted before each leading a group out of the doors. The man turned back to them, "Follow me,"

* * *

Whether it was because of the seemingly _endless_ lifetimes of training the both of them carried in their veins, their bodies being _outright alien_ — or something else entirely, the first day of training went like a breeze.

Sure, quite a lot in their group seemed to think they didn't belong in training with them— be it their age, size or the obvious ease with which they carried themselves during the warm-up, it was hard to tell.

"Alright pair up," Cor barked out orders from where he stood in front of them, wearing his usual clothes minus the jacket, "Arendt— _any_ _of you two_ , upfront and first stance," Clay made a bit of a bow to Desmond that made him roll his eyes, but he still went and stood in perfect stance, well balanced with his training sword pointing towards Cor.

"Watch and then replicate, once you have it do it on me" It was a _complex_ drill, Desmond noted, two steps forward, two jabs and a slice, one step back with a guard, a parry and a feint twirl that would bring one's blade into the other person's neck but never connect, ending with a kick at the solar plexus.

A complex drill for beginners, but Cor knew better than that with them.

Desmond tested the weight of the sword and replicated it after a second, _not holding back_.

But Cor just had a second to see it before he went into defensive flawlessly blocking Desmond's strikes, lifting his sword to block the feint, bringing it down quickly to slip his hold, flat palms against the shaft and blade, Desmond's foot connected with the flat of the wood. Unlike Cor he had to shift his stance, make it wider so that it could reach the man's chest. The whole thing had happened faster than the demonstration.

Cor's eyes stayed on him for a moment before they pulled away. He nodded at Desmond before facing the rest, their mouths hung slack.

"Again, slower," his voice was stern but there was a certain shine in his eyes that betrayed his amusement.

They repeated it two more times, like that, then Desmond got on the defensive and Cor on the offensive.

"That's enough, practice it, I'll supervise each pair and none of you are leaving until I say so,"

And with that, the grounds became a mess of grunting a falling. Desmond wasn't expecting Cor to be such a _nice_ teacher, he didn't mock those who failed, instead gave them pointers on balance and posture. _He was a bit of a spartan if anything_.

"Again, widen your stance and straighten your back— lower your shoulders, balance yourself,"

They went at it again, the kid still fell on her ass but it was _better_ this time.

"Better," he looked at Desmond and Clay who were doing the repetitions fluidly by now. It had taken the blond some more tries but he got the hang of it faster than any of them. He went through the rest one more time before getting to Clay and Desmond again.

"You two are moving up— names?" Cor asked with a quirk of his brow, an _unnecessary formality_.

"Desmond Arendt, _sir,_ "

"Clay Arendt, _sir,_ "

Cor gritted his teeth in a scowl but the two of them could see how he cringed at hearing _them_ calling _him_ that.

"Clay, you're up this time, same as before" they went at it longer than with Desmond but Clay still got it pretty fast. Once they separated he heard Cor mutter something along the lines of 'You really are _imps_ aren't you'

The two of them advanced far too quickly and did five more drills while Cor went through the second one they had done with the rest.

"Good work today, I expect all of you back tomorrow, same hour— Arendts, stay" he beckoned the two forward before going to the rest, they looked like they had been to hell and back with the number of repetitions he made them do, "the rest, dismissed"

Once they were alone Cor flicked the two on them on the back of the head.

 _"You little devils— by the Six, this was weird,"_ he said with a sigh.

"Not a clue as to what you mean, _sir_ — Ack—"

Clay got a training sword to his hip for that.

"Oh cut it you _menace_ ," the sky was setting down darkening the grounds a bit, but Desmond could still see the way a slight coloring spread to his ears.

They set down their weapons on the rack and made idle chatter, making time until the locker room cleared out.

They got changed and Desmond dropped the glove, let his… _skin_ , breathe a bit.

"You two did good, I see you've been practicing" he quirked a brow at them, amusedly.

"Cecile?" Desmond asked with equal amusement while Clay slumped next to him on the bench.

"Felix— I haven't heard a man apologize that much on a call since Clarus lost his wife's _ring_ ," He chuckled at the memory.

To their credit, they did look sheepish enough.

"Sorry the training was that _light_ "

Desmond shrugged while Clay groaned.

"It was fine— keep it that way for me anyway— Ugh my… _everything_ " Clay mumbled into Desmond's shoulder, and they had to smother a laugh when Clay kept whining.

"I'll see if I can find a way to improve your training to something more _suitable_ ," he said chuckling at the pitiful sound Clay made, before getting up to gather his things.

"You two taking the _subway_?" He asked as the two followed.

"Yeah— Felix is pulling an all-nighter at his office and Cecile just texted us she got caught up in paperwork,"

"Want a ride?" He asked, jiggling his keys as he walked towards the parking lot.

" _Please_ " he snorted at Clay's whining over Desmond's back, turns out training had been a bit too rough on him and Desmond ended up carrying him out.

Desmond laid Clay on the back seat and let him rest his head on his legs. Cor started the engine and turned on the radio.

"So, Felix told you the whole thing?" Desmond asked as they slipped out of the checkpoint on the Citadel gates, Cor gave him a grin through the rear mirror.

"Told me about how the two of you joined a _gang_ "

Desmond snorted at that when Cor tried to reign back his laughter, "Anything you want to say to that?"

"It's a nice _gang_ — you should come see us, we practice _parkour_ by the _Rogue's park_ "

"Sounds fitting," that park had its own little obstacle course after all, " _A parkour gang of all things_ — he made it sound like you two were robbing shops, assaulting people on alleys or something" he was still laughing about it, "sounds more like a _club_ if anything"

"It's a _gang_ , Cor, we've got shirts and all" It was the truth, they had gotten together and gotten shirts with the gang's mascot, a _coeurl_ silhouette that looked like a half-moon, one of the kid's tattoo artist brother had made for them. It was pretty stylish.

"Save me one in XL then," he said while Desmond brushed over a very _asleep_ Clay.

"Deal, but only you wear it after training," Desmond said jokingly but…

"Deal" 

_Well, he wasn't going to tell Cor he didn't have to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ye i think I like writing domestic scenes, it brings me peace.  
> yall's comments make me so happy.  
> everytime I think it's getting harder to write this, I read them and it gives me the boost I need.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years have passed since Desmond and Clay joined the Kingsglaive. Introspection ensues, tears are shed, and a boy that sleeps like a log appears.  
> [A new player has joined the game!] Enter Noctis! jk  
> Also sometimes I try and answer questions with the story so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Somewhere Over The Rainbow, 'cause it sounded nice.  
> Colonel is pronounced Kur-Nuhl or like Kernel.  
> Lemme know what yall thought

_'All in all, it wasn't a bad life… but I guess, I can't help feeling some regret huh—?'_

Noctis stared at the empty space where Ardyn had been before over a hundred swords had torn his very soul from existence— vanishing it like footprints in the sand that disappeared with the tide.

It had been over so suddenly— _so easy_ , that for a moment he thought that, perhaps, all of _this_ : the ten years of darkness, the killing and dying, the struggle to hold each other's grounds, to hold their family and loved ones close; the death and despair and slow _culling_ of the humans and animals. The mass slaughter and indiscriminate destruction that turned Insomnia into a cursed battleground of fire and blood, where nothing had been spared.

_Could it have been a dream?_

The trip the four of them made— Ignis, Gladio, Prompto and himself, could it be that Noctis had been dreaming all along?

Their journey across the continent, Leide, Duscae, Cleigne; countless miles back and forth in his dad's old car. All the people they met, the friends they made, Dave, Kimya, Aranea, Cindy and Cid, Holly, Wiz, Monica, Dustin, Cor— had all those memories they shared…

_Could it have been a nightmare?_

The blood on his hands, the countless tears in his clothes, the sheer wasteland that became Insomnia, nothing more than a nest for _daemons_ to fight amongst each other for the scraps of dismembered pieces of a poor family that wasn't quick enough to escape.

Gladio's scars, the ones he had gotten trying to rid himself of his fear— fear of not being _enough_ for the weight he carried, fear of _failing_ those who came before him, fear of not being able to protect Noctis. Had his struggle against the Blademaster— Shield of the Founder King— never happened? Hadn't he watched little Iris be forced into a world of death and darkness?

Ignis, hadn't his advisor burned slowly under the fire of the Lucii— in his last desperate attempt to save his charge? Hadn't he lost his sight for Noctis? Hadn't he felt helpless and scared— _useless_ for years, lived with the regret of not memorizing each and everything of the world when all he had left were ghostly memories and faded sensations? Wasn't his beloved advisor left with the vision of Noctis being impaled by the Old Kings, knowing he could never have stopped it…

Hadn't Noctis pushed his best friend from the moving train while under Ardyn's thrall? And hadn't Prompto been tortured by days on end at Zegnautus Keep? Beaten into unconsciousness, stripped bare for the world to see as he was cut open, as he screamed until his voice died out— hadn't the young boy struggled ever so fiercely, never losing faith that his friends wouldn't abandon him, that they would come back for him?

Hadn’t Somnus betrayed him? Hadn’t his own brother, his blood and flesh, his other half, had he not killed his beloved _—_ murdered his wife in cold blood and daemonized him? Made a kingdom over their deaths and cursed _Ardyn_ to an eternity of pain and sorrow, hadn’t his little brother _—_ No, hadn't his little brother, under the Draconian’s influence, locked him up to rot for two thousand years in a deserted island fated to perish by the hand of a young boy…

Ardyn’s memories mingled with his own, revealing him the real struggle of the man who he thought was an enemy, a heartless monster that deserved to be obliterated from existence _—_ but it wasn’t like that.

Ardyn had been human _—_ one of the best he had ever known, by far _—_ had been kind, selfless, loving beyond measure; he had been a healer, a wise wanderer if a bit _cheeky_ at times, he traveled all across the land healing his people from the _Starscourge_ when the Oracle hadn’t been granted that power.

Then he was betrayed by his brother, by his gods, and by his wife _—_ forced to lie in a limbo of pain and despair as the Astrals, the ones he so vehemently had worshiped, summoned the image of his wife to tear his heart and body, force him into submission to the fate they so carefully had laid out for the world.

Hadn't he left them at Gralea after being _swallowed_ by the Crystal and forced into a decade of sleep? And then… 

_'Hadn't I just left them to die? This time too—?'_

_Hadn't they suffered enough?!_

His limbs felt numb— no, he couldn't feel them anymore, like they were never there.

He too, like Ardyn— Ardyn Lucis Caelum, brother of Somnus Lucis Caelum, Founder King of the Kingdom of Lucis— was going to disappear too.

His existence: _wiped_ ; his line: erased, after one-hundred and fourteenth generations; his memory: forgotten…

Noctis felt hot streams run down his cheek and he felt a familiar burning in his eyes, in his nose, _in his heart_.

Something was bubbling up from within him, hotter than the Infernian's wrath, yet colder than the Glacian's touch; his rage, enough take upon the Tidemother.

And a will strong to challenge the Draconian's own.

No.

_He will not accept this._

He felt _hell_ coursing through his veins— an agonizing mix of fire and ice, while electricity crackled in his ghostly grasp and the space of endless stars around him began to flood. It hurt, he was burning, freezing and cracking up what was left of his soul, light streaming through the fissures of his shattering figure.

The Lucii’s consciousnesses were gone, their destiny fulfilled after smithing Ardyn into nothingness, they were nothing but raw power for Noctis to hold, meant to be turned to cosmic dust now that their calling had been answered; two thousand years of power, gathered up in a single place, in a single body— _in a single soul_.

_‘This fate—! I won’t accept this fate—!’_

Before any of the gods could even begin to understand what was going on in their small, little world, a bright light engulfed it all. They wailed and screeched in pain, turning into disarray as they tried to figure out what was hurting them _— what was capable of hurting them._

To Noctis, to the world, the light had brought a long-forgotten warmth upon the land.

_‘To go back to those days— the days when we were happy but didn’t know it, the boring days, the dull days— the peaceful days… how I wish— How I wish I could— …’_

_How I wish I could see them again._

After ten years of darkness, death, grief, and despair the sun rose again in the most beautiful of dawns. Warm light bathed the land, bringing with it an ethereal glow that reached each and every corner in the Star.

Their wounds healed and their fatigue cleared, their tears flowed freely as they basked in the light brought back by the one True King, cheering erupted from all places as the daemons vanished where they stood.

_Then the light engulfed them all._

* * *

A sigh escaped Regis' lips as he watched over his son's sleeping figure, holding his hand in a shaky grip, stroking the ghostly pale skin. His only comfort was the steady rise and fall of his chest and the steady albeit _weak_ pulse under his grip.

This morning Noctis had fainted at his entrance ceremony, one moment he had been fine, the next, he and another classmate of his were lying on the floor.

 _But they weren't the only ones._

All over Insomnia there were cases of something like this happening, people that had been walking down the street, at work, going by their daily routines— they started falling to the ground.

Cor and Drautos had very nearly barged into his office to give him two separate news that turned out to be the same.

He had never seen the Captain like that, even Cor was obviously unsettled and to make _him,_ of all people, _'obviously unsettled'_ — for a moment Regis feared an invasion was right at his doorstep.

But then Drautos was very near full-blown panic rambling about how half of his Glaives suddenly dropped out-cold mid training, some had to warp to catch some of their fellows because they fainted mid-air, while he had stopped two of them from falling down the stairs.

After that Cor had reported that Noctis too, had an incident of the sort at the ceremony about twenty minutes ago. He and the Argentum boy had reportedly suddenly fallen down while exiting the auditorium— Cor had someone sent to check on Ignis after the young man didn't answer his calls or texts, which was _absolutely_ worrying. Eventually they found Ignis in his car, parked a few blocks away from Noctis school— his head resting against the glass.

Then, he had gotten a call from Clarus saying he had to drive Gladio to the hospital after he had blacked out as soon as he stepped outside of the house, giving Iris a fright.

_'Just what's going on in here?— My boy…'_

Regis tried to bring Noctis' hand to his forehead, but a sharp pain shot through his back, front the base of his spine right up to his shoulder blades.

"Ugh—!" Regis slowly straightened himself, setting down his son's hand for a moment and looking at his own.

The gem of the Ring of the Lucii shone faintly in the early noon light, a sign that it was, indeed, _drawing out his life to sustain the Wall_. Regis sighed again, staring at his aged flesh— discolored satins adorned him in certain areas, his hands were as scarred as they were wrinkled, there was a slight shake to his movements, one he could no longer control as well as he could _six years ago_. The rest of his body wasn't spared from the strain, even his hair had now fully turned lighter gray that would close into a more silvery shade in the following years, his eyes too had turned lighter.

For a man in his mid-forties, he knew he looked at least a decade older than that, the sheer amount of magic the Wall drained from him seemed to be catching up to him.

His eyes wandered from his _cane_ , that rested next to the night-table, sleek black with golden and silver details and sculpted wing-like motifs and small patterns— then to his knee-guard, a golden piece of metal with endless leather and metal clasps, it too, had sculpted engravings, of vines of some sort. The guard was less about actual protection or aid in combat, and more about helping him keep himself up, his leg had finally given out about a year ago, all the clasps helped him align the appendage so that it would support his weight.

_'Ten— fifteen years at most until—'_

Regis shook his head with a bitter smile, fifteen years until his whole body finally crumbled down to nothingness. He shivered at the thought of it and took hold of Noctis' hand again, tenderly, gently, like his child was made of glass, and sucked in a shaky breath.

Regis wasn't afraid of death, not one bit— not afraid of the pain either, he had steeled himself over the years to fight it— he knew his soul would join the rest of the Kings and he too would reside in the Ring of the Lucii… it was Noctis for whom he feared.

 _Noctis_ , his Noctis— his young little prince, the light of his world, his sun, his moon, and sky… _he would be leaving his boy all alone_. His child was strong, there was no denying it— he had seen him spar against the best of the Crownsguard, against Clarus and Gladio together, saw as he learned the moves from his adversaries and struck at the perfect time. Noctis struggled with magic, and it saddened Regis that he couldn't be the one to teach him, he kept growing weaker by the day so he saved all his energy for emergencies, like five years ago. If it hadn't been for Desmond and Clay who had been on duty that day— _Noctis would have—_

* * *

_They were returning from this or that trip outside of the capital, Regis had been needed to stay behind for some formalities so he sent Noctis ahead, back to Insomnia with a regiment of guards and, by some luck, Desmond and Clay._

_He had run into the two young Glaives at the site, sadly they had to keep up appearances so he couldn't catch up with them._

_"Will you two be returning today?" Regis had asked as he walked a few steps ahead of them because of some stupid decorum or whatever._

_"Yes, Majesty, we'll be leaving with the group in a couple of hours," Desmond said, at the time the two had just turned thirteen, a year had passed since the two completed the Kingsglaive training in record time, climbed through the ranks with pure skill and strength._

_Regis was grateful he had asked them to ride with Noctis that dreadful night._

_A daemon had attacked the caravan that escorted him, they lost the entire group in the front car when the serpent monster crushed it with its tail before targeting the car the two of them rode with his son._

_The two Glaives had gotten trapped under the car after the blow, Clay's barrier gave Noctis and his caretaker room to escape but he and Desmond would have a harder time getting out._

_By the time Desmond melted enough of the two thousand pound deathtrap so they could warp out— it had been too late._

_The daemon, a half-snake, a half-woman monster that wielded six weapons, one for each arm she had— had already slashed through his son's back severing nerves and tearing flesh and muscle, blood pooling under them._

_When Regis got to the scene Desmond was distracting the beast, luring it away from Noctis with what seemed to be every trick he had in his sleeve while Clay's hands shimmered with a greenish soothing light over his Noctis' back._

_Golden fire and lightning crackled with his every strike, the ground around them froze somehow trapping the monster in place, the golden ghosts struck the beast, the power behind their strikes sent bursts of energy across the field and the ground cracked under the assault but the beast too gave no quarter. The beast wailed and roared under the assault, giving back as good as it got._

_So tough was its hide they barely made dents on it._

_Regis summoned his royal arms, the ghostly weapons flew from all directions but the beast blocked them with its own. The cracking became louder and a glance at Desmond revealed they both were having the same idea._

_So they pushed, Regis with his weapons and Desmond with a barrier of his own, the creature howled and hissed and growled at them as it struggled against their combined strength. They rounded the bastard creature to the edge of the cliff before Desmond hurled hell upon the creature, making the ground give out under it and burying it under the sea._

_Noctis fell into a coma and lost his ability to walk._

* * *

Regis sighed at the memory, Noctis had spent months in a coma, the severe blood loss and trauma he sustained…

Were it not for his and Clay's combined efforts Noctis wouldn't have made it to Insomnia.

"And then the ambush at Tenebrae… I keep owing those two kids—"

He took Noctis to Tenebrae to receive healing from the Oracle herself only for it to be an inferno all over again. He had managed to grab Noctis from his wheelchair and Lunafreya, but young Ravus had been too far away. Desmond had managed to warp him to safety but there were only so many MTs he could burn at once at the time, so many bullets Clay could stop. _Only so much magic Regis could use._

Ravus escaped Desmond's grip and ran back to his burning mother. The enemies having tagged Desmond has a top threat go all out on him. Regis feared he would lose him too. _But he was powerless against the army_.

And Lunafreya slipped out of Regis'.

To give them a last chance to escape.

_Lose a battle to win the war._

He can still hear young Ravus as he screamed after him under fire and gunpowder.

"Help us!— Please!... help us— King Regis!"

_Lose Tenebrae to keep Noctis alive._

He sighed yet again, as he waited for any sign that his boy would wake up.

_'Please, my child— I know your strength, I know your will… please—'_

* * *

Noctis woke to a nostalgic flood of emotions, ones he hadn't felt in over a _decade_.

The soft linens rippled under his skin at his every movement, rising and falling in tandem with his breathing. His left hand rubbed the fabric mindlessly, losing himself in the silky feeling of it, trying to remember when was the last time he had something so nice under him.

It wasn't until his right hand wanted to do the same thing that he noticed something heavy over it. Heavy, warm and comforting— familiar in a way he had thought he would _never feel again._

Tears rolled over his cheeks leaving hot trails in their wake that didn't seem to cool down— he didn't want to look, fearing it— _that all of this might be nothing but an illusion. Bahamut's cruel punishment to his outburst back at his realm._

But the hand over his tightened with an iron grip he had nearly forgotten. Noctis let his head roll to the side and stared at his father through watery curtains as his dad did the same.

_"Dad I- I—!" He tumbled over his words, failing to speak past the lump on his throat before he felt himself getting pulled into a long lost warmth._

_"Noctis!"_

Regis' embrace was _crushing_ , filled with such emotion he had never felt from his father before. He tucked Noctis' head under his chin and whispered sweet nothings over him. Rubbing his hands over his back until Noctis slowly returned the hug, crying his heart out over his dad's shoulder.

His grip must be bruising his poor King's body but he couldn't bring himself to let go, _fearing that if he did then his father would— he would—!_

He felt Regis shift under his grasp which only made him grip tighter— clung to his form like a lifeline— like he would die if he didn't.

Regis didn't say anything, instead, he shifted a bit more before settling more comfortably, resting some of his weight on the edge of the bed, petting Noctis hair in soothing motions.

But the tears didn't stop, they just kept coming out of his eyes, his heart— _his soul_. He could just sob under his father's— his dad's attempts to soothe whatever heartbreaking ache had befallen his son.

Regis rocked them softly as Noctis wailed in his arms, his lithe frame quivering and trembling and jerking with every sob that escaped his lips.

Noctis' whole body was haywire with emotions, the ones he never dared to show anyone— not Ignis, for fear of hurting him, the man had raised Noctis and seemed to think every failure of the prince was his own fault, not Gladio, for fear of disappointing the man even further, not Prompto, for fear of rejection, that his friend would leave him after seeing him.

And not Regis, for all of the above.

But the dam had broken and the flood of his tears would wash and drown everything in its wake— and it would not end until every last drop was out, until it had dried so thoroughly a drought would ensue.

He knew he was a mess of tears and snot and spit— but he could barely care about that, his mind too far to worry about his or his father's clothes.

At first, he waited for the moment Regis would push him away, that he would tell him that he was a prince and he couldn't be seen acting like this— _like the spoiled brat he was always told he acted like, like the whiny little brat he was—_

That dreadful wait was the only thing that was keeping him from falling to pieces and yet—

_"It's alright— My prince, my child— It's fine now— It's okay to let go" His dad held him a fraction tighter and that was the last straw._

He cried all the tears he had stored— from Tenebrae, from his attack at the road, from that time he got grounded— from Altissia, from Luna's death— _for the death of his father, his King, his guardian, the ones he never shed when he remembered how little he told him he loved him, the ones he could never shed to mourn— his memories, his last word, last hug, last time he kissed his father on the cheek…_

_Lasts and firsts, he cried it all out until his ears rang and his mind fogged up until all he could feel was Regis fingers treading through his hair, gently combing his tangled locks— the hand on his back rubbing soothingly with a steady pressure that kept him grounded._

_Cried until his voice faded out and all that was left were silent little sobs and soft jerks with every intake of air._

He let a sweet melody guide him back to the present after who knows how long. His breathing had evened out some time ago, only small shivers broke out in irregular bursts every now and then. They weren't sitting up anymore, he was lying on his side curled under his dad's embrace. It took him a moment to realize that the soft melody was his dad singing.

_Someday, I wish upon a star_

_Wake up where the clouds are far behind me_

_Where trouble melts like lemon drops_

_High above the chimney top_

_That's where you'll find me_

Noctis let the strange song wash over him, he felt like he had heard it before but couldn't tell when or where. It soothed him in a manner he never thought possible.

Regis' voice was a bit husky as he sang, every now and then it would turn too soft before he picked the volume again.

_Well, I see skies of blue and I see clouds of white_

_And the brightness of day_

_I like the dark_

_And I think to myself what a wonderful world_

Noctis found himself humming along even if the words evaded him, he knew the tune. It started like nothing more than a puff of air with a bit of a rhythm, before his voice grew more confident and he joined his dad with his own hoarse tune.

_I hear babies cry and I watch them grow_

_They'll learn much more than we'll know_

_And I think to myself what a wonderful world_

_World_

Before long they fell into a steady duet, the words slowly rolled off Noctis tongue even when he couldn't piece where he had heard this song, it had a certain _tropical_ tune to it, like the songs he had heard on the radio. Old altissian songs, galahdian songs...

_Oh, somewhere over the rainbow_

_Way up high_

_And the dreams that you dare to_

_Why oh, why can't I?_

The song ended as softly as it had started, Noctis hummed the last of the chorus, letting it die down.

They laid there, basking into each other's warmth like they hadn't done so since Noctis was a child. He could feel Regis’ knee guard digging against his leg but he didn’t try to get away from the slight itch it caused.

The sun shone through the curtains and over them, which mixed up with the cold air in the room. It started to lull Noctis back to sleep. All that crying had left him exhausted.

He heard Regis leave out a small chuckle, never stopping carding his fingers through midnight locks.

“Come here my child, you need something to drink before you go back to sleep”

Noctis accepted the offer, took a couple heartful sips off it and allowed his dad to wipe the snot and tears from his face with a warm towel, hissing as it rubbed against the sensitive skin around his eyes.

Trying to hide his face from Regis turned out to be useless, as the man just got a hold of his chin gently, giving him a small kiss over the crown of his head and a last hug.

“Now _rest_ — I will be in my office if you—” Regis was about to stand up when Noctis gripped his arm.

“ _Don’t go…_ ” It took him a mortifying second to realize that he had said that out loud.

Instead of the familiar gentle chastisement he had grown to accept, Regis just put his hand on his cheek, beckoning him to raise his head. There was no stern look to meet him, no judgment in his eyes.

“Very well, I will be here when you wake up, now— _sleep, Noctis_ ”

So Noctis burrowed himself under the covers and fell into fitful sleep.

* * *

Regis had someone retrieve paperwork and his laptop from his office, and gave the guards the order not to bother him, then settled down to get some work done. Ever since Noctis moved out of the Citadel half a year ago he had barely stepped inside his son’s old room, sure he had it cleaned and tended too but he had no more reason to visit.

Everything was as Noctis had left it, the bedsheets were changed every few days, the room dusted off and moped every some more but all shelves and cabinets were now empty— Noctis had taken all the books from the bookshelf and after a while, they stopped tending to the flowers in the vases, his clothes, his toys, and the small rock collection he hoarded over the years too, had been taken.

He pulled the curtain around the bed, leaving a small crack on it over the side, facing the desk and got back to work.

Regis had forgotten how much of a _log_ his child was when he slept— he nearly froze the guard on the other side of the door when the man had the _gall_ to knock so loudly when his child was sleeping, even after he had told them not to let anyone bother him just who was it—

"Your Majesty— _it's Colonel Arendt_ _and_ — _Colonel… Arendt_ "

Oh— well that changes things then.

Regis got up with his cane and opened one of the doors, and brought a single finger to his lips to signal Desmond and Clay to keep quiet and beckoned them in with a tilt of his head.

These past seven years had made marvels out of both of them in many ways. When before it had been Clay that towered over Desmond by an entire head, now their roles reversed, with Desmond closing into Regis' own height at an alarming speed, if the boy kept the pace he would soon pass him easily. 

Their builds and complexions, their facial features— had changed so much now that they didn't remotely resemble _brothers now_. They looked like complete strangers to one another, not the _twins they supposedly were_. _Regis was seriously starting to have his doubts regarding that matter._

Though they both kept their hair short, save for a couple of braids that curled behind their ears, easily shoulder length now, with just a couple of synthetic flowers on the middle parts.

Once the door closed behind them they dropped their formalities as Regis enveloped the two in a group hug.

"Good to see you too Old King," Desmond said as they parted, sparing a glance to the covered-up bed, his eyes shone for a second as he looked at it.

“You know the whole twin thing may be getting confusing, did you see the face of that guy?” Clay walked towards the small table behind the desk and leaned into it waiting a breath before speaking again, "We heard the news,"

Desmond helped Regis to his chair and took his cane, leaving it resting next to the desk, Clay stepped into view to infuse his leg guard with some healing magic. He usually toughened up when Clarus or Cor tried to _baby_ him like this but…

Well, it was hard to get these two to just let him _crawl his way around_ — Clay had even threatened him, _in front of Clarus no less,_ to have Desmond carry him to the infirmary the one time he had used too much power during training. Regis had jokingly said that he would have them thrown in the dungeon, but something told him _they wouldn’t stay there for long_.

Even in their magic they were opposites, while Desmond had enough power to handle a small army, his healing powers were _non-existent_ — whereas Clay’s healing was just a few tiers under the late Oracle’s own magic, and his shield was on Regis’ level if not higher now— his offensive was barely enough to light campfires or power up a _flashlight_ but that was about it.

"Thank you, my child," Regis let out a breath feeling the soothing effect of the power infusion, the only reason his leg hadn’t completely given out on him was because of Clay’s constant healing, as their powers weren’t dependent on Regis’ magic or the Crystal’s.

Clay just gave him a shrug and went to lean against Desmond.

“Getting worse?” Desmond asked with obvious worry.

Regis just let out a puff of air, staring bitterly at his hands, his gaze traveled to the tented bed where his son slept— he just shook his head, not wanting to chance Noctis hearing about it.

Thankfully, they took the cue and dropped the topic— _for now_.

Regis reclined in his seat, adopting a more serious semblance now, Clay separated from Desmond and they both stood straight with their hands clasped behind their backs.

“Now, report on your mission, _Colonels_ ” They had been out for a month beyond the walls on a special assignment with their teams, their mission was to recapture the fort in the north of Leide and the Duscae fort from Niflheim control. The trip alone was a three-day journey

Desmond produced a folder out of his armiger with a flash of golden sparkles, Clay did the same with his own emerald light and both set them on the desk.

“Both forts are under control again, the mechs and MTs neutralized, Desmond disposed of the fort leaders and I have listed off the resources we seized” Clay spoke seriously and pulled out his phone, typed some things and soon enough Regis phone pinged him of a received mail, “That’s the list we have so far”

“Clay took in a lot of their intel from the servers there, though we’re still scanning them for threats and virus, we summarized the findings in the reports— regarding the human troops, they fled the fort on their aircrafts, we disabled the mounted miniguns and seized their weapons too, they won’t be a threat until they restock somewhere, it might take them some weeks,” Desmond too, sent him a digital folder containing images and text documents neatly organized.

"Cor sent us some units of guards to help speed up the process," Clay sent him photos of the arriving caravans of guards and all their plate numbers, "They're the ones left behind packing everything up— we were going to put out a request for Drautos to send us some Glaives to help in guard duty—" Clay pulled a form from his armiger and placed it on Regis desk.

"Approved," He didn't even need to look at it to know it was perfect, "though, you two outrank him, next time just tell him yourselves and leave me to deal with him"

Once everything else had been laid out they finally allowed themselves to relax when they heard shuffling coming from the bed before a well-known tuft of black peeked out of the curtains.

"Huh— _What?_ " Noctis stepped out of the bed looking around dazed for a second.

His eyes traveled from Regis to Desmond and Clay, blinking around with a puzzled expression.

Regis stepped around the desk, Clay's magic would allow him to walk around without his cane for some days, up to a week if he took it easy— he made his way to Noctis before pulling out a potion from his armiger and breaking it off in a shower of pale blue lights. 

Slowly, the swelling and redness of his eyes died down and his face began to look livelier.

"That's much better isn't it— How do you feel my boy?" Noctis just mumbled something about how he was _fine_ as he looked around the room with worrying confusion, like he didn't know where he was.

Then he walked up to Desmond and Clay with uneasy steps and _stared at them_ , jerking away violently, which made them all furrow their brows.

Clay had gone back to leaning against Desmond with his arms closed loosely.

"Still in dreamland Noct?" Clay teased him like usual, in that cheeky way of his elbowing Desmond to egg him on to join the tease.

Noctis mumbled something none of them heard.

"Sure looks like it—" Desmond stretched his hand out to ruffle Noctis hair into an even greater mess but his hand just caught bright blue lights as Noctis _phased_ out of his grasp.

"Noctis…?" Regis walked around to face his son, sure they often teased each other like that over the years, but Noctis only ever resorted to magic when he was _particularly_ upset, which was _only in the training hall_.

Noctis face bordered _horrified_ , and he had a sneer pasted on to his face that made Regis take a step back. Noctis was angry. He had never seen his son angry. Not once in his fourteen years of life.

He looked at Desmond and Clay but they both seemed as confused as he was.

_"I said— Who are you and how did you get in here?!"_

The wave of magic that came out of his child knocked Regis a couple of steps back and threw the stacks of papers onto the floor.

Desmond's barrier shattered in a burst of golden light and the only reason Noctis didn't completely mince him was because Clay had summoned his own shield over them. Jade and gold fell around them as Noctis increased the pressure of his twelve Royal Arms attempting to break through the second one— the ghostly weapons ground on the translucent dome surrounding the two of them.

Regis felt like time around him came to a halt as he took in the scene before him. His son, light of his life, sun of his sky— _was very thoroughly pissed._

“Noctis, what’s going on—?” His voice sounded so distant to his own ears. Noctis mumbled something else and Clay’s shield cracked under the pressure before he quickly mended it.

Noctis was attacking them with Royal Arms.

_“I said— What the fuck are you?!”_

Thin, golden feathers vanished over Noctis’ head, Regis heard a familiar flapping but couldn’t bring himself to look away from the scene in front of him. After all—

_Noctis didn't have Royal Arms._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just make a time-jump in here? yes  
> cliffhanger #forgive_me


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introspection ensues, lots of crying, confused parties.  
> They all need some time off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to know I managed to utterly confuse everyone in here last chapter lmaooo, love ya guys <3  
> AC boys had their time now its time for the Chocobros

_A strange bird descended from up high, golden feathers glimmering under the light of the setting sun— screeching as it dove towards his target._

_The midnight haired boy looked up, diverting a single weapon to meet the creature— a single shield-shaped like a kite went to hover over him, becoming the only thing in the bird's path._

_The bird shattered in the air in a burst of golden feathers that soon became golden dust, showering the room with the shine, concealing the cloaked figure that hid under the light._

_Noctis shield held on under the unknown weight of the ghost. The young boy lunged at it with a spear and a sword but the man wasn't there anymore._

_He noticed too late, that the figure was coming at him from behind— his body was coiled tight like a spring. Noctis' weapons wouldn't be able to get to him in time nor would any other weapon he tried to summon._

_So he braced. Completely ignorant of the pleading looks his father shared with the two strangers. Oblivious to the understanding one they gave back to the King._

_Pulling his arms in front of him— glancing a look at his assailant. The man's face was obscured somewhat but he managed to get a good look at his eyes. Like the magic that surrounded his figure, they shone with a soft golden light that warmed him to the core._

_What surprised him wasn't how beautiful or enthralling they seemed— but how there seemed to be no malice hidden in them. His lips moved and Noctis froze as he made out the words._

'I won't hurt you'

_His guard slackened for a second allowing the figure to crash onto him in a burst of light, he staggered backward out of reflex but he barely felt it like a breeze._

_"Any time now Sixteen"_

_"Gimme a second— There!"_

_Then Noctis and his weapons were trapped in a cube of jade magic._

_Then Regis guards poured in, following the distressed sounds coming from the inside._

* * *

"Noctis attacked them? Just like that?" Clarus asked as they sat down on the sofa at his house.

" _Just like that—_ " Regis sighed, after Clay had trapped him in his _'Jade Prison'_ as they had dubbed it some years ago, that strange cube-type shield— they had waited until Noctis stopped trying to break through and under Regis soothing and the two's blissful silence, they had managed to calm the boy down and get him to pull back his Royal Arms. Clay pulled back his shield.

 _"I have to go"_ Noctis mumbled before storming off, looking wild around the eyes.

Clarus just sighed next to him, Gladiolus had been acting strange too after waking up, he had stuck to him and Iris like a leech as soon as he saw them— hadn't even let got after Clarus chastised him for such a bratty behavior, which had worried him enough to remain in his grasp until his child settled down, even Iris stopped struggling when she saw that this wasn't another of her big brother's teases.

Gladio, too, stormed off as soon as he got a hold of himself just blurting something about _'Having something to confirm'_ before taking off in a sprint.

Clarus slumped back onto his spot shuffling a bit as he felt his King rest some of his weight onto him and they both sighed.

Just what had just happened.

Their phones pinged with a familiar tune and they both rummaged through their pockets to find them.

The message read a very ambiguous'Ignis has lost his mind, call me when you get this' text that only made them rub their faces.

* * *

_They couldn't hold out forever._

_Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto knew that— they knew that there were too many daemons for the three of them to defeat, much less survive._

_And yet— and yet they stayed._

_'Noct… I'm sorry—' Ignis lamented as he clutched onto Prompto, sprawled in the floor drenched in their blood._

_Gladio had kept the daemons at bay for as long as he could, but Ignis couldn't hear anything but the gruesome crunching on bones far beyond him. He heard the growls of the daemons as they feasted on his friend's body._

_He held Prompto as he buried his face in his neck, crying silently, heard the clicking of his gun that signaled that he was out of ammo and out of magic to produce more— yet Prompto still wanted to do something, anything to help Gladio to—_

_"Ugh!—ekh… my leg, Ignis it hurts— it hurts so much…" Ignis heard and felt his shifting and caught his hand with his own before turning his head with his other._

_"It hurts so much Ignis—" his voice sounded so small, filled with pain and desperation and fear, Ignis cradled the younger man's face in his hands wiping the tears._

_"Shh— it's okay, Prom— Prom, it's okay keep your eyes on me— like that, eyes on me" Ignis wasn't much better, his own voice raspy and hoarse but determined not to let Prompto look down see where his missing appendages should be._

_But then they heard it, the guttural snarl of a behemoth, its heavy footsteps as it stalked towards them. Ignis tested his own legs— tried to, he couldn't feel anything below the waist._

_"Ignis— I'm scared… I-I c-can't— I can't take it anymore Ignis—" it broke Ignis to hear his beloved friend, companion— lover, once upon a time. Prompto, sweety, cheery Prompto, one of the few lights this world still had, "Iggy… Iggy I don't want it to hurt— Please…" Ignis cradled his still crying face and took off his glasses, giving his friend one last smile as he tried to gauge where his eyes were, attempt, and make eye contact even if his own world had been dark for a decade._

_"I know Prom…" he shifted his hold and gave his dying friend one last kiss, "I love you, we all do"_

_Prompto made a broken noise as the footsteps grew louder._

_Ignis snapped his neck as his tears fell onto his body. Then he took his remaining dagger and brought it to his neck._

_"I'm sorry… Noct"_

_He felt but a second of pain before his world turned silent._

* * *

"Noct!"

That was all the warning Noctis got before Ignis crashed into him, latching on in a vice grip, turning his face this way and that as tears began rolling down his cheeks. His eyes, green like the flourishing valleys of Tenebrae, sparkled like a jewel in the soft warm light of the corridor— the tears caught in his lashes as they slid down.

The hallway of his apartment was hardly the place for such an overwhelming reunion but Noctis didn't care about that. Not when Ignis slammed them against the wall, sobbing with his face buried in his shoulder calling his name like a charm.

"I'm here Specs— it's okay now…"

Noctis pulled his arms around his advisor and hugged him closely, letting him pour himself out like he had done with his father— smoothing a hand over Ignis' back as he looked at him while they slid down to the floor. Noctis' shirt riled up as it caught between him and the wall but he didn't mind.

He spread his legs a bit so Ignis could slot himself between them and pulled up the man's glasses and laid them on the floor too— they would just get fogged up if Iggy kept them on, and Noctis knew how much it would piss the man. And began petting his hair, letting the light brown locks catch on his fingers.

It took some time but eventually, Ignis hold lessened and he brought up his head to look at Noctis, tracing his features tiredly. Ignis had been drenched in sweat when he came in— though, now that it had dried up like his tears and— _was that snot?_

"Pffft— Iggy you look a mess" Noctis couldn't help falling into a fit of giggles as he wiped off the tears over his advisor's face.

Ah— well, now _that_ brought Ignis back.

Ignis scoffed at him and began fixing his clothes before he began rummaging through his pockets looking for his handkerchief before giving up.

"Tsk— I must have forgotten it when I—" Ignis looked a bit dejected and for some reason that only made Noctis burst out laughing.

" _How do you even forget something_ — What were you escaping from? A Behemoth King?"

Ignis fixed his glasses before helping Noctis up and giving him a side glance attempting to cover his smirk.

"Not quite, but close— _it was the Marshal_ "

_Cor._

_Ignis escaped Cor._

The noise that came out of Noctis was most decidedly _not human_ as he bent over and started laughing.

"How did you even end up running from Cor of all people?— No, _how did you even succeed?"_

_"'How' indeed…"_ Ignis decided he would  _not_ tell Noct about how he _latched onto Cor_ the same way he stuck to Noctis before he noticed that it was  _Cor, out of anyone he could have run into first thing he woke up with... everything as it was in his head_ . Ignis knew to choose his battles, and this was one he had to avoid— so he shoved Cor against the wall and threw a  _stop spell_ at him and fled.

Ignis chose his battles.

And telling Noctis about this particular was one of those he would avoid.

So Ignis put on his best scowl— that quickly melted when Noct wrapped himself around him.

"I missed you Specs—" his voice sounded broken, by the tiniest bits, broken and incredibly thankful.

_And well, how could Ignis stay mad at that?_

So he just hugged back.

They would need to talk about whatever _this_ was later. But for now…

Ignis wrapped his arms around Noctis' smaller frame, resting his chin over his head.

"Missed you too, Noct"

For now this was enough.

* * *

_"I need to see him! Please you need to let me in I-I—" Prompto was on his lasts right now. He had woken up in the school's nursery having a panic attack because the last thing he remembered was sending his best friend to die for the world and seeing his pal eaten alive by daemons— he had not been in the school's nursery, so what in the world had he been doing there?_

_He needed to see, to talk to someone— Noctis, Ignis, Gladiolus… anyone— he needed to know if this— if this world, this skin, if this was really him: alive, breathing, safe. Needed to know if they were all— if they were all…_

_"Please! I—"_

_"Step back! I told you, you need to have authorization to access this building—" the guards in front of the building were blocking him and Prompto was starting to have second thoughts as to why he didn't just stun them here and now, "and you don't. So move along or I'll have to call the cops— or take you in myself so why don't you just—"_

_Prompto didn't have time for this._

_"Enough. He's a friend of His Highness— he's with me," Gladiolus strode past the guard not even sparing him a glance, taking Prompto's hand, they disappeared past the double doors._

_They made it to the elevator before the blond was all over his friend. Touching his face, his neck, his arms— cradling shaky fingers through short brown locks and staring at sparkling pools of mahogany._

_"G-Gladio I-I'm, I— I'm so sorry!— I'm sorry—" His voice broke mid-sentence and his legs gave out but he didn't fall to the floor, instead, Gladio caught him and held him with the same emotion with which he clutched at his sides._

_Prompto sobbed uncontrollably against his friend's shoulder, screaming for forgiveness— for how he had failed to protect him against the beasts— the daemons… he had just left him there and then asked Ignis to kill him, he—_

_"... I know, Prom, it's okay now"_

_They made their way into Noct's apartment, Prompto was too riled to walk so Gladio just scooped him up and carried him._

_They settled down on the sofa not separating any more than necessary, Gladio helped Prompt onto his lap, let the younger man wrap his legs around his middle— his arms around his neck._

_And they both broke._

_Prompto wailed and sobbed, his breath hitched as he begged for his friend's forgiveness— and Gladio felt the dept of his pleas, he truly felt responsible for his… death._

_"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Gladdy— if I had saved up energy— I-If I had listened to you an' Iggy then maybe— m-maybe you would've— Maybe you wouldn't have—!" Prompto shook and jolted in his arms trying and failing to keep it all in._

_The pain, the death, the desperation— the sadness, relief of being alive, having his friend safe, unharmed— alive._

_All of that came out, from the both of them._

_Neither really cared how much time they remained like that, basking in the comfort of each other's presence._

_"Hey— hey, come on, Prom look at me," gently, he nudged him up by the chin, his face was flushed deep red, around his eyes, over his nose, up to his ears— the tear trails hadn't dried up one bit and glistened in the light._

_Prompto just sobbed and cooed, he wanted to curl up over himself and stay like that for days— but still, he met his friend's eyes, still afraid…_

_Afraid that even after all his encouragement and soothing he would find blame in his eyes, broken trust and hate, that whatever bond they had forged over a decade of struggle and despair was done and over—_

_He found none of those as he looked into his eyes— there was only relief, and understanding, and such a blatantly obvious trust that made the tears catch on his eyes._

_"It's alright now— we're alright now" his voice quivered as he spoke and closed his eyes, the tears that caught in his lashes became too heavy and started going down his cheek._

_They were alright now._

* * *

Ignis opened the door for Noctis and they both stepped in— still walking close, neither of them wanting to be apart by more meters than necessary.

Ignis saw the pairs of shoes haphazardly thrown off and tapped Noctis on the arm to get his attention.

"Looks like they beat us to it" Ignis whispered softly and gently closed the door behind them.

Gladio and Prompto were lying on the couch— well, _Gladio_ was lying on the couch, Prompto was lying on top of Gladio. They looked cozy.

Noctis walked as silently as he could and made his way to the space over Gladio's head and sat down, careful of not disturbing the both of them, they had tear marks all over which was… weird.

Seeing his friends like this— so vulnerable, exposed. And yet they had found some comfort in Noctis' apartment to fall asleep like this, in his living room, which brought some relief over him.

'Sleep, you two— you earned it' Noctis managed to shift a pillow under Gladio's head and saw the way his shield's features softened with the action. Prompto grumbled a bit at the change of angle and shifted a bit before settling down. Their eyes were puffy and more than a little red around the edges, which— was kind of a weird look on the both of them, Gladio especially, since he had never seen him like this. Always the strong man, their pillar, their _tank_ — if they were in a videogame; he was Noctis' shield but he was also Ignis' and Prompto's too, in a way— always looking out for them.

Ignis came out of the bathroom looking more like himself, his hair was looking less like a chocobo's butt for one, and he had cleaned his face, his eyes were closed as he walked over. He passed a damp towel to Noctis and put another over Gladio's eyes and slid a thin chilled compress over Prompto's, not before cleaning him gently.

The blond just sighed and blindly reached out a hand over Noctis, finding his leg and settling there

It took some more arranging though, Noctis had to take Prompto's hand off him so he and Ignis could trade places, now Ignis was closer to the other too.

Regardless of how composed he had looked before, it was clearly doing him some good to have them close, feel their presence, hear their breathing— rather than being able to see them again, it was the combination of his other senses that seemed to truly put him at ease.

Noctis cleaned up a bit before he settled down between Ignis' legs— and maybe he shouldn't be as comfortable as he was right now but something about this all felt _right_.

An odd feeling bubbled up from his chest as he reached a hand and rested it over Gladio's shoulder— like warmth spreading from his heart out but at the same time, that warmth it seemed to seep into him from the tips of his fingertips, from where his back and shoulders were pressed against Ignis.

Noctis had done nothing but sleep since he… _came back? Woke?_

Ugh— they really needed to have _that_ talk about what was going on right now…  _though_ …

Ignis' left hand slid to his hair and tangled his fingers in it, while his right stretched out to do the same over Prompto's.

They would have to talk to Regis about this— if they really were alive right now then they would do things differently. They would not let it all repeat— the pain and the death…

They won't let it repeat.

Noctis felt the pull of sleep again.

Ah— well, in Noctis' opinion, they earned the right to procrastinate for a bit more.

* * *

_By the Six— Prompto had not been looking forward to the burn in his eyes._

"Ugh— this is the worst" he grabbed the damp towel that was lying next to him and began dabbing it over his eyes trying to ignore the sharp sting that came with it, it felt like he had rubbed the skin off— _it hurt_.

He palmed around the bed— _wait, bed?_

Weren't he and Gladio on the couch?

What— ah, _someone_ was there.

He pulled up the covers and found _Noctis_ curled up next to him, the curtains were drawn in Noct's room but the light was enough for him to see— ten years of fighting in the dark do that to you.

So, he was lying on Noct's bed. With Noct. Not on the couch with Gladio— but in Noct's bed with _Noct_.

 _Nice_.

Well, weird— because Gladio wasn't under him, but nice. Though, when did Noct get back? He stared sleepily at his friend’s sleeping form, before reaching out to put a hand over his head, feeling the silky locks over his fingers.

A small thing that he needed to do— to make sure that his friend was _there_.

The clicking of glass against wood brought his attention, Prompto followed the sound to find a _young_ Ignis standing next to the night table.

Ignis looked taken aback for a second and Prompto thought he would just leave him there but instead Ignis bent down and cupped his face, using his thumb he wiped at the tears he didn't feel himself shedding.

"Ignis…?" His touch was gentle, minding the swell and soreness of his eyes.

"I will bring you another towel, drink some water in the meantime," his voice was soft as he spoke, his expression was relaxed too, as he looked at Noct, "Gladio carried you here once he woke up, Noct followed him and ended up falling asleep too… though it seems his afternoon nap is over"

Noctis grumbled something as he sat up, his hair looked like it had gone through a hurricane and back with how it was— well, _everywhere_.

Noctis yawned loudly and stretched before crawling his way over to Prompto and—

"Um— Noct, what are you doing?" Prompt asked from where he was wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Ah— well, you know— _that_ " Noct just laid his head on his thigh and while it was nice it was kind of not a Noct thing to do— _nice_ , but odd.

" _That,_ huh…" Prompto placed a hand over Noctis' shoulder looking a bit too _pleased_ right now.

Ignis rolled his eyes at the prince's little antics, " _That_ , indeed," he shook his head and took the cover away from Noct, "now, _Highness_ , it's time,"

For once Noctis didn't grumble— _as much as he usually did,—_ and pried himself from Prompto's lap, but he still tugged him along as he stood up.

Prompto couldn't keep the growing unease in him "Time for what?"

Ignis just smiled and put a hand on his shoulder and— yeah, that actually helped settle him down a bit.

"We were waiting for you to wake up, we need to talk about, well— _this_ ," Ignis kept his voice hushed as he spoke, especially the last part because…

Well, they couldn't postpone it forever, and they really needed to know why they were back what looks like— _six years,_ give or take, before everything went to _shit_.

" _Right,_ "

So, off to the kitchen they went— because it was well past-noon and they had slept through their usual mealtime and now their stomachs were being _very_ vocal about their need to be filled.

Ignis made them some quick snacks from what was in the fridge— cheese and meat slices, along with some veggies Noct ate his way _around_ , much to Ignis dismay.

Ignis pulled out some cup noodles, since there wasn't anything else to make a _real,_ healthy meal.

They sat down by the couch as the noodles cooked and Prompto got his first proper look at his friends.

Their eyes were puffy and red around the edges, not different than his were— even Gladio's, a really weird look on the big man that swung a sword of Prompto's size if not bigger. Ignis' hair was slightly ruffled too, the slightest thing but it was so obvious on _perfect-man_ Ignis. Noct, if looking as much of a mess as he usually did was a lot more… _physical_. Right now he kept switching between leaning onto Prompto and slowly making his way to _Gladio's lap_. Which— while totally fucking _cute_ , _still not a Noct thing to do_.

They finished eating in comfortable silence, broken only by Noct's displeased grunts every time he found a vegetable in his soup, pointedly picking them away and tossing them on the nearest cup, which was Gladio's. For once, the big man just raised an eyebrow at him but didn't berate him and ate the offending veggies.

Ignis picked up the cups and tossed them in the trash sitting down next to him, and Prompto couldn't help _leaning into_ Ignis— a part of him still needing the touch to confirm that they were there.

Gladio was the one to speak after a long silence.

"So," he wasn't looking at Noct, but it was obvious he was addressing him, he sighed, "you did something, didn't you, Noct," his tone was understanding, somehow. Not accusatory or resentful— it just _was_. 

But he did just say that this whole… _thing_ , was Noct's doing.

"Gladiolus, we can't go jumping into conclusions—" Ignis' voice was as composed as he remembered, and— indeed, they didn't know if this was Noct's thing.

"— T-that's right! We don't know if this was really Noct's—"

"That's right, this is my fault" Noctis' voice was quiet and final as he spoke, "It's because of me that we're all here,"

_What could they say to that? What else but—_

"Why?" Gladio's deep baritone rang as he looked at Noctis, turning all eyes to the prince.

The air turned cold all of a sudden and Prompto shivered as his eyes fell on Noct's form— his face was contorted in barely concealed _rage_ and fists were turning white over his lap from how he was clenching them. Snowflakes were forming in his hair and over his clothes— Noct took a breath and bit his lip. The cold faded as quickly as it had come.

Silence stretched out again before Noctis spoke in a hushed voice that soon became too loud.

" _I couldn't accept it—! Like hell I could accept it!_ All the death— my father's death— _YOUR DEATHS_ —" Noctis was shaking where he sat, bitter tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, "All that death and despair— for what? To go along with some _bullshit_ Gods’ grand-fucking-finale of a plan to end the same disease they brought down of us— Like _fuck_ I would accept that!” Noctis was nearly boiling in a rage none of them had ever seen him show.

No one said anything for a while, Ignis blindly stretched a hand over Noctis’ shoulder and was rubbing soothingly over the muscle. He had barely opened his eyes longer than what he had to, clearly still… _unused_ to having his sight back again.

“All I wanted to do was to give you guys, give my father, _give the world_ _another chance_ — _of happiness_ … I just— I didn’t think— that _this_ would happen,”

“ _This_ being all of us getting thrown back in time,” Gladio sighed and threw his head back, closing his eyes, Noctis murmured a small _‘I’m sorry’_ hunched over himself. 

Noctis told them what happened in the Six’s realm, how he used his power to overpower the Astrals, _hurt them to their core_. How he _watched_ them on their last moments, fighting against the daemons— well, he didn’t watch but… a primal part of him _knew it, felt it_ when they died. Told them about how he went against Bahamut’s wishes to end his existence and how he woke up in his old room at the Citadel with his father.

Gladio shifted a bit in his seat before opening his eyes, still with his eyes fixed on the roof “Ah, well, what’s done is done anyway,”

The sound of his palm slapping against Noctis’ back made them all wince, _especially_ Noctis as his friend quickly straightened himself in his place and pressed a hand against the no doubt reddening spot, looking at Gladio with betrayal and confusion written in his face.

“What was that for?!— it fucking hurts” his face was twisted in a grimace of annoyance and pain and Prompto couldn’t help but laugh at him, which earned him an elbow to the arm and a grumble of “It’s a fucking mutiny” Gladio laughed at that and made a move to slap him again, “Once isn’t enough?” it was an aborted movement that made him snort when Noct braced against the seat.

“ _Wuss_ ,” He still slapped Noct on the arm, while not as harsh as the first it still knocked Noct forward a bit, making them all laugh, even Ignis tried to cover up his growing smirk under a fake cough.

They laughed some more when Noctis retreated behind Ignis, crawling over Prompto to escape Gladio.

By the time they stopped they were wiping tears from their eyes. Gladio shifted over to the spot where Noctis had been.

“So, what will we do about it?”

“Err— the same thing we did before? Just, ya know, faster?” Prompto looked at Gladio with his own confusion, sure he was glad to be alive, and that _a lot_ of people were alive, but they didn’t really have a plan to begin with.

“Taking on the Six, Niflheim and _Ardyn_ — while still sheltered under His Majesty’s watch, I really doubt the King will just let us all out given we’re—” Ignis opened his eyes to look at his phone, no doubt checking on the date, “fourteen, sixteen and seventeen, I doubt the King will let us out into what no doubt is a battlefield right now”

That was true, around this time Niflheim started growing more and more aggressive with their attacks, nothing as bold as going against Insomnia and their impenetrable Wall, given that the Wallbreaker Wave wasn’t ready yet, and wouldn’t be for about five-to-six years from now.

But Niflheim was pushing hard, they would fully take control of the rest of Lucis in the following years, their bases and outposts would be raided and taken down and invaded— then they would come in blasting through the front door, kill the King and then hunt them down before literally falling to their own _daemons_.

“Ah— then isn’t it easy enough?” Noctis stretched out on the couch, resting his chin over Ignis’ shoulder and peeking at Prompto and Gladio from them.

Ignis tilted his face in his direction looking rather confused, “Few things about this is easy, Noct, we need a plan and—”

“Why not? We just have to tell my dad about it, the armiger still has everything we stored in it— I’m sure the SD cards of Prom’s camera are still in there” Noctis shrugged prying himself from Ignis, and Prompto stretched his hand reaching for the familiar magic pull, and pulled out the SD cards before standing up and going for his camera, that apparently Gladio took the time to pull over him while they had their _crying_ bout.

He plugged in one of the cards and lo and behold, they still worked— _and had their photos still in them_.

Prompto let out a whistle at the sheer amount of photos there were, “Well if these pictures don’t convince the King _we’re screwed_ ” Ignis and Gladio pulled the rest of them out which were— _about twenty, did he really take these many photos?_

_Wild._

Ignis readjusted his glasses whilst blinking a couple of times while looking at the pictures, no one said anything about it but— this was probably a big deal for Ignis, being blind for ten years, honing every other sense he had to adapt, and now having it all back it must be quite a lot for him.

Ignis looked through what seemed to be the most recent— _or was it the oldest pictures?_ The ones from their battle at Insomnia, of their trip across the continent, Altissia, of the Covenants with the Six— which, if Prompto was honest, _were really good_. Pictures on the road, with their friends, the ones they made over the years, Holly, Cor, _that Glaive that beat their arses off_ — _No, Prompto hasn’t forgotten that one._

_Judging by Gladio’s face, he had not either._

“Maybe I should get that kid before he grows himself onto a _tiny Cor_ ,” he grumbled while Ignis perked up and Noctis came to look at what they grumbled about. The picture showed _Prompto about to get his ass kicked off after his petrification spell wore off earlier than he expected, and the young man with the bright red hair about to tackle him with a shield._

“Is that—” Ignis clearly didn’t know the kid but the bridge of the Exineris’ Power Plant was the common training ground for the Glaives back when they had been stationed at Lestallum.

“Who’s that?” Noctis chimed in, “Ah— didn’t he help us pick Cindy’s stuff around Insomnia?”

“Yes— but he also handed us our arses back in Lestallum” Gladio said with a grunt, he felt those bruises for _weeks_ , “Became a big shot back there, beat us all when we were training, word had it they were trying to make him the Marshal’s successor— though no idea what became of him after the war”

“Eeh,” Noctis' eyes went wide, ever so eloquent.

They went through some more of the photos and equipment, finding out The Ring of the Lucii, among them, which honestly was more than enough as far as proof goes.

Noct suddenly went stiff and let out an odd sound.

“Ah, I forgot something— I _kinda-may-have_ pulled out my Royal Arms at the Citadel”

“You. _What_ ” Ignis nearly dropped the files they had stored there over the years, he looked at Noct with shock and confusion all over his face, Gladio too, stopped what he was inspecting of their camping gear to look at him with an eyebrow raised in that _Gladio-exasperated-look_ with the cocked brow and the eye roll.

“Well they woke me up with quite some fucking magic— I felt like I was facing _Ardyn_ all over again”

_Facing ‘Who’ again?_

Noct seemed to notice what he just said and frowned quickly turning to Gladio and Ignis while they traded some alarmed looks, “Say, Specs, Gladio— you guys ever knew of some guys that could _rival_ Ardyn in here?” he walked over with a serious expression.

_Someone in Insomnia that could rival Adagium— Ardyn Lucis Caelum. That was quite the statement he was making because the only person that had ever gone one-on-one with the Starscourge personified._

Ignis fixed his glasses as he spoke with a stern face, “The only _known_ people that have gone against Ardyn and survived, as you know, are King Regis, and you Noct— royal blood and magic have been the only things that have ever stopped that man,”

As Ignis finished they all felt a chill run down their spines, felt the air suddenly turn heavy in that way Starscourge tended to make the dark spaces it dwelled in. The sun had gone down some time ago.

They pulled out their weapons and went into a fighting stance with the practiced ease of ten years of combat experience and pointed them at the shadow on the far end of the hallway.

“Indeed, only King Regis himself and _Noct_ ever managed to put a dent in me, kill me” Ardyn stepped out of the shadows, walking slowly with his head down. There was no mirth or mockery in his tone, but bone-deep tiredness that could only be the work of over two thousand years of imprisonment and enough deaths and revivals to fill several lifetimes. 

Still wearing those heavily layered clothes, with the coat and the arm piece that mimicked a wicked wing, the same hat, same _deadman_ look over him. Faded wine-colored locks bobbed with his every step.

They waited for Noct’s order to lunge at him, or for him to give the first strike— _by the Six they really wanted to kill him just once again, after all they went through because of him_ —

Instead, their King just raised his hand and offered Ardyn a tired look, which Ardyn took as a sign to continue talking.

“Ten years ago, only you two could hope to harm me, not another soul— you must know what that means dear Noctis,”

They all knew what that meant as impossible as it may sound. Noctis hummed in agreement looking at Ardyn with a bitter smile.

“It means I raised my arms against two Royals— powerful Royals at that”

“Fought back then—”

Noctis just let out a small chuckle as he walked to the man, his steps, and his demeanor of before long since forgotten, all there was in him was full-on King Noctis Lucis Caelum, he walked past Ignis to stand right in front of the apparent _sworn enemy of Lucis_.

“They subdued me and my arms—” That really made them all tense, "And they know my dad, _knew me_ ”

Gladio let out a long sigh, not taking his sword from Ardyn, “This couldn’t have been easy _time-travel_ could it?”

Much to their displeasure, they all hummed in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys should get yerselves some of 'that' huh  
> Regis is gonna be in for a fucking ride.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The risk was calculated.  
> But only Ignis is good at math.  
> Truths are told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo AC YALL SAW VALHALLA?! CAUSE HOLY SHIT I GOT HYPED.  
> LIKE SO FUCKING HYPED OMG

The tension in the air was so palpable that it could be cut with a knife. The sun was nothing more than a memory now as Insomnia lit up in the night.

Noctis kept his hand raised as he stood in front of Ardyn with a tired expression, his eyes looked darker but his gaze was sharp like the blades pointed at the man.

Gladio stood like a mountain to his left, broadsword in hand ready to tear Ardyn in half on command; Ignis to his right wielding but a single dagger but with his free hand at the ready to attack with a spear. Behind them, Prompto had his gun in one hand and a grenade on the other one.

Ardyn looked around the room like he wasn't even bothered by his current situation, he probably wasn't— given how Noctis is the only one that could ever kill him, and he wasn't pointing a weapon at him.

Noctis stepped up to the man, making his friends tense.

Before, Ardyn had easily towered a head over him, now the distance was nearly doubled.

That didn't make him any less of the King he had finally begun acting like.

"Ardyn" his voice was steady, no fear, no hesitation, but had an odd tiredness to it. Ardyn's movements were slow as he reached for his hat, pulling it off and holding it to his chest. There was no dramatic flourishing or the eccentric demeanor they had all grown to associate the man with.

His eyes found Noctis' and there was no malice in them, instead there was the slightest bit of redness at the edge. He looked like he had somehow aged, a thing he hadn't done in two thousand years.

"Noctis" he sounded dead to them all, if not for their training they would have been tempted to lower their weapons.

"Why did you come here?"

" _Why indeed_ , a little bird told me that, perhaps, _this_ was your doing," Ardyn fiddled with the hem of his hat as he lowered his eyes, the amber in them had a certain shine to them the man only had back when he had been a prince.

"You didn't answer my question, _Ardyn_ ,"

"Perhaps I will," he began pacing the room, the blades followed him like magnets to metal, itching to make contact, "If you answer one of my own,"

Gladio growled lowly at the man, tightening his grip over his weapon.

Noctis didn't answer, didn't follow Ardyn as he walked around the room, grazing his furniture with his fingertips.

 _"Why, did you rob me of my death, Noctis?"_ There was a tremble in his voice as he whipped his head back to him, _"Why steal that from me?"_

Black ichor began pooling at the corner of his eyes as rage began building up inside him. It trickled to the floor and pooled under him before returning to his body.

"It wasn't my intention to bring you back, Ardyn," Noctis took in a shuddering breath, _"You know that but you know that already,"_

Ardyn was faster than any had ever seen him be, in the blink of an eye he stood behind Noctis and there wasn't anything they could do against that speed but _damn it all if they wouldn't at least try_. But Noctis just turned around to face Ardyn again.

"Maybe I just want someone to blame," said the man, his lips were tinting black as the ichor flooded his mouth.

It was such an empty threat that he pitied the man for even using it.

"I'll ask again— _Why did you come here today, Ardyn?"_

Ardyn didn't answer, again, but the ichor began to fade back into him and there was that shine again, one the man hadn't ever felt since he had been nothing but a healer.

A look he would so often have on his face as he witnessed his own miracles, as he healed those afflicted with starscourge, as he saw how relief washed over their faces and they dropped to their knees crying tears of happiness. As he saw the hope they regained for their seemingly lost future

"Will you truly kill him, Noctis?"

 _Hope. A long lost feeling to Ardyn_.

"Kill? What is he talking about Noct—" Ignis began but the chill in the air returned.

_"Bahamut"_

"Noct you can't be serious!"

"Y-yeah! What are you talking about?! Killing Bahamut— that's not possible!"

Gladio and Prompto barked their disbelief but Noctis was not joking as he spoke the words.

"He has toyed with my family long enough— but he has grown bored over the centuries," his tone was cold as he spoke, "So he made up an encore to finish his play— like he had Somnus murder Ardyn, he had me end his existence once and for all— _but I'm not playing by his rules anymore_ ,"

Kill Bahamut.

_Kill a God._

Ardyn looked at him, trying to find trickery and betrayal in his intentions or his words.

Ardyn's tone turned serious, "Even if you kill him, you don't know if that will end me" his response elicited noting in the young King, his resolve was unwavering now.

"Then we'll just need to find another way,"

Prompto had made his way to Ardyn's side, his aim perfect, nothing the scourge did would save him from a bullet to his gut, "Another way to what?"

"Another way to kill me," Ardyn sighed with a bitter smile, "You barely know what you did to bring us back, much less another way of killing me,"

"Last time we went with Bahamut's way— I'm done playing by his rules. I will ask again— _Why have you come,"_ Noctis' tone was final, his stance immovable.

Ardyn paced around some more, touching this or that thing over the shelves before coming to stand back in front of Noct. He held the prince’s eyes for a long time before sighing and looking over to the glass doors that led to the balcony.

“...Maybe I’d like to make things different this time too”

Gladio made a move to protest but Noctis stopped him and beckoned Ardyn to continue, “How, exactly, do you plan on making things different? The war has just begun again and it will keep growing until Niflheim fully mobilizes to charge against Insomnia,”

Ardyn just hummed and began pacing around, his usual self was already back on him, that overconfidence that never meant anything good.

“Hmm— well, the plans are already in motion, true, but only on _niflheimian soil_ — no pieces ever moved on Lucian grounds at this time, which is why you will need me—” He waved his arms with great flourishing gestures and a big bow in front of Noctis, ” Lucis must defeat Niflheim and end this war”

“Wait a fucking second, didn’t you want Niflheim to win?” Gladio bit at Ardyn, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles turned white.

“More like I wanted Lucis to fall, after all I was kind of imprisoned under your rule, hmm? Was I not?” he quickly waved a hand dismissively at Gladio, “It’s in the past now, isn’t it? Well, the future, this is all very confusing is it not?” 

Prompto scoffed at that and Ignis just steadied his stance. The both of them had suffered far too much at the hands of the man. Prompto had been tortured by his order's and Ignis had given up his eyesight in an attempt to protect Noctis from him.

It was hardly in the past for them.

"Lucis will commence a counterattack— but how is it that you plan to aid us from the other side?" Noctis walked back to sit down at the sofa, leaning forward, resting his arms over his thighs.

"Hmm, while I can't stop what has been started, given how little power I have over it, I have something that will give Lucis a head start,"

"Pray tell, what could you have that we didn't already figure by ourselves" Ignis' daggers crackled with magic as he spoke, but that only made Ardyn's grin widen.

"Ah— well, perhaps that's true, but then, tell me dear Ignis— what do you know about General Glauca?"

Well now that brought a reaction from Noctis, if the twitch in his expression was anything to go by, Gladiolus just growled openly at that. After all, Glauca had been the one to kill the King and his dear Shield. 

"If you're not interested then maybe I should be going—" He made a mocking bow at Noctis.

"Who."

Ardyn reeled himself back to look at Noctis and his grin fell again, _Noctis looked quite angry,_ and while Ardyn had a knack for tempting _fate_ — he was actually trying to make it different this time around.

He took in a deep breath before he spoke, "I'm still unsure of his identity— _however_ ," he rose his hand in the direction of Ignis and Gladio who were about to call him on his bluff, "He's here, in Insomnia— infiltrated about six or seven years ago, the people who know his real name are few— those who have seen his face, fewer still, but if there's someone who can get you that information— who better than the chancellor himself?"

Who better indeed, it's not like they had a lot of allies in Niflheim— hell, they probably didn't have any to begin with, which is why they were always on the defensive during the last war.

No information and no way to prepare for the attacks, coupled with never knowing their Magitek would improve or what trick they might pull off… 

That, and Glauca's identity was a matter they couldn't let pass— the man was quite a major threat, he had led the assaults on both Tenebrae and Insomnia, and had been successful on both before seemingly disappearing.

Ardyn's phone began buzzing under his clothes, playing a lively tune. After some rummaging he fished it out and looked at the screen.

"Ah— do you mind if I take this call, _it's from my husband, you see?"_ Ardyn put up special playfulness for the _'husband'_ part.

Noctis just eyed him carefully but let him.

"Why, hello there _darling_ —"

_"—I TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING ME THAT"_

Ardyn pulled his phone away from his ear just in time for them to hear the man through the phone.

"Mhm— love you too— _Yes,_ I understand— Yes,— _Yes, I wish you'd trust me more with_ — No. Put that on hold for the time being— I'll tell you when I get back— _Very well,_ then—"

Ardyn jerked away from the phone with a sigh, his so-called husband seemed to have hung up on him.

Turning to Noctis he did another flourishing bow.

"My apologies _Majesty_ , but I'm afraid there are matters that require my attention," he stood and began walking to the balcony, weapons following his every step, "I'll look into the matter of Glauca's identity and I'll do my best to slow the war efforts on the other side,"

Effortlessly he jumped onto the railing and put his hat back on. Noctis followed him and stood outside, feeling the cool night breeze on his skin.

"This will be our truce, _King of the Stone—_ but it'll come with a price— Oh also," he looked at Noctis with a dangerous seriousness in his eyes, "You may have already noticed this but I'll say it anyway— it appears this world isn't _exactly_ the same as before— _your new Colonels, a walking proof of that—_ Well, _until we meet again—_ "

Ardyn let himself fall backwards, Noctis knew that the man would travel back to Gralea using the shadows of the night— wherever Starscourge traveled, so could Ardyn, but Ignis and Gladio still rushed over to look down.

Quite obviously, _there was no trace of Ardyn_.

Once they were back inside and after _quite_ some time passed, his friends managed to relax, vanishing their weapons in flashes of light-blue lights. 

* * *

The unspoken agreement on where they would all spend the night was sealed after they all took their turns in the shower and grabbed the spare clothes they kept in Noctis' home.

Prompto would take the guest room with Ignis, while Noctis would share with Gladio— they all still needed a bit of time to _reconnect_ back with each other.

"Hey Noct— Are you sure about this?" Gladio asked once they were nestled under the prince's plush blankets, "The whole _alliance_ thing with Ardyn, were you being serious?"

"For now, it's our best plan— I know you don't approve, after all the things he put us through, in fact it's a good thing you're all on edge around him,"

Gladio frowned, "How is it _good_?"

"My head is still a bit messed up from back at the Astral's realm so I need you guys by my side in case Ardyn tries to backstab us,"

Gladio grunted but didn’t pry, shuffling closer to Noctis until the prince's head rested comfortably against his chest.

"So what's our next move?"

"That'd be— _telling my father about this_ "

" _Damn"_

_"Mhm— but that can wait 'till tomorrow…"_

Soon enough, Noctis' small frame was rising and falling rhythmically against Gladio's form. The bigger man shuffled closer still before he succumbed to the pull of sleep.

* * *

When Regis received the missive from a messenger about how his _son_ , along with his entourage, were requesting a private audience with the King and his Shield _this_ had not been what he was expecting.

 _"I— What?"_

_At all._

"Well, like I said," Noctis, _his son of fourteen years,_ repeated, "we're time travelers from about _sixteen years_ from now on and we need to tell you how to stop the war— and kill Bahamut while we're on it," he made a pause, "since I'd really like to avoid death— _yours, mine, theirs, and a whole lot more_ this time around,"

Regis rubbed at his face with one hand and sighed, he really wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming— and if he was, he _really_ wanted to wake up now.

If it weren't for the sheer amount of _stuff_ Noctis had pulled out of his armiger prior to his rather poor explanation, he might have been tempted to call him insane.

Or call him a doctor.

Piles upon piles of documents, folders, audiotapes, manual recorders— a full set of camping gear, with a small kitchenette set— plus more potions and remedies that could rival the amount he had used over his lifetime…

His fully deployed Royal Arms that had a very familiar-looking weapon among them— _a copy of his sword._

Even Clarus knew that the only way to get a King's weapon was when said King had died— there wasn’t really a way to sugar coat that part.

And then there was the ring placed on his son's finger.

Regis swallowed around the lump on his throat and blinked around the wetness in his eyes, "' _If this is a joke, it's going too far—'"_ he sighed and looked around, "It's what I'd like to say but… this would be a bit too elaborate for a joke—" his voice cut off.

Because how could he say all that he wanted to say after his child told him that in six years time, he would be murdered while Insomnia burned under Niflheim's fire, while daemons ravaged his home and massacred its citizens.

That ten years of darkness would befall the world and beasts and daemons alike would rampage all over Eos, cities and settlements destroyed in their wake leaving only a couple of safe havens for the survivors.

That in six years, his child would be consumed by the crystal and imprisoned for those ten years of darkness— only to come out and fulfil that godforsaken prophecy, die by his ancestor's blades, die by _Regis hand…_

A hot trail slid over his cheek but he paid it no mind.

Noctis gave him a sad look at that and shifted a bit in his seat, his little entourage very pointedly looked any other way, "It would be too cruel even as a joke, right dad?" He shook his head pushing past the dampness of his own eyes, "Though, I would rather It would be a joke…" his voice broke at the end and it _hurt_ Regis to hear the sound.

Then, Noctis told him of what happened at the Astral's realm, how in the end, even after making up his mind, making his peace with death— how he just couldn't accept it.

"I— _we_ know how this might sound, but it's all true, every last bit of it and—" Noctis swallowed as he stood from where he sat in front of Regis, and there was an odd, familiar air about him— not his son, his sometimes _bratty_ child, but a _prince—_ No, a _King_.

"— And we don't plan on sitting around and waiting for the war to spark again— we'll fight back, want it or not, let us or not— We won't let history repeat itself again, not when we can stop it…"

Regis looked at the weapons piled down on the floor, enough to fully equip an entire platoon of glaives, "And you will do this with or without my permission,"

"With or without your _help—_ "

"— Do you really _fucking_ think I'll send my own son to die _twice_?" Regis rarely swore in front of his son, Noctis stilled like a stone in front of him but right now it's a _fucking_ exception.

His past self or future self, or whatever it is called, may have forgotten, but the Regis of _now_ still has the resolve of protecting his kid from whatever it's that Bahamut is scheming, "Not without my help, Noctis— whatever it's coming, it'll deal with us both," his words were final as he stood and regarded his son's entourage.

They were young, barely older than Noctis himself and yet… their eyes had that _shine_ to them— that determination, love, and loyalty he had only seen in his most seasoned soldiers, in Clarus, Cor, Weskham and his father's own retinue.

“I’d rather risk my own sanity right now than living and bearing witness to all the horrors you talk of— Bahamut be damned for all I care, the Six too—”

Their flesh might be soft and new but their souls and spirits were hardened by countless battles, they used his son's magic as if it was second nature— their eyes darted to the slightest of his moves or the shuffling of his guards.

That level of awareness was not something you could teach to some teens overnight, Clarus saw it too, which is why he didn't intrude.

He walked towards his son and put a hand over his shoulder coaxing him to look straight at him.

He wouldn't speak to Noctis as King to his prince, he wanted Noct to hear this as reassurance from a father to his child.

"While I'm still having some… _trouble_ , taking all of this in— I will stand by your side, my child, rather than regret it all," he gave him a small smile that his son returned with a twitch of his lips, before regarding the _mess_ in his quarters, "Honestly you make a rather solid argument with everything in here, isn't that right, Clarus?"

Clarus sighed as he looked around, "Not even the whole council can refute _everything_ in here, Your Majesty," his eyes fell over Gladiolus' form and offered a half-smile that made the young man relax, “Hard to believe as it is, I won’t say no to a chance of ending this war”

Noctis shifted a bit where he stood with a troubled expression over his face, before the same determination as before surged through and he closed the distance between them.

His child's hug was stiff and awkward but Regis didn't mind.

The tense atmosphere of the room quickly melted around them, finally allowing them to relax. War and Godly matters would come in six to ten years time, his son was here now.

_To Regis that's all that mattered._

They made some idle talk after that, while to Regis and Clarus it had probably been less than a day since they dined with their children— it didn't seem to be the case the other way around.

They were still having some trouble wrapping their heads around the whole time traveling parts, but the last thing they wanted was to be away from their children when they seemed to need them the most— that included Ignis, who he had raised as his own, and the blond boy Prompto who was as close to a brother to Noctis it seemed.

Saving Insomnia and winning a century-long war…

_Plus, taking that lying snake Bahamut away from his boy._

Regis could work with this.

"Honestly if I hadn't dealt with _strange_ and _alien-looking_ before— I might have been deeply worried,"

Regis set down his cutlery and looked at them.

 _"Indeed,"_ Cor set down his as he looked around at the table with his usual steel-cold gaze.

They had called him in and put him up to date, to his credit, he had looked more _annoyed_ than anything.

If the man hadn't dealt with Desmond and Clay as much as he had over the years he might have had the decency to look at least disbelieving.

Hanging out with those two did _things_ to a person's sense of normalcy.

_Which reminded him..._

"Ah— right, Noctis, why did you attack the two of them yesterday?"

Noctis looked blank for a moment before his eyes widened in recognition— _like father like son_ , they both had forgotten about it.

"The two of them?" Cor looked at them all in confusion before it dawned on him.

The effect seemed to spread over the dining room and made a strange silence settle in.

"That's one of the matters we wanted to discuss with you Marshal," Ignis set down his cutlery as he straightened out, "Majesty, this concerns your Colonels," his gaze piercing.

Regis honestly didn't like the sound of it one bit.

"Because those Colonels didn't exist back in our time,"

_Didn't exist._

"That's true, I knew of all the strongest glaives and yet I never caught a glimpse of those two anywhere," Noctis twinned his fingers over the table, they waited until the staff finished taking their dishes and disappeared behind the door, "More importantly, Insomnia wouldn't have fallen as easily with such powerful soldiers— or the opposite, it would have been most likely reduced to cinders if they were with the Empire,"

Regis waited a beat before standing up, "Let's take this conversation into my chambers,"

* * *

Cor went to his office and pulled out the files that had been hidden in the bottom of his drawer and began putting them in the armiger, took out the batteries of the recorders and put them in his bag and went back to the Citadel. Powered electronics usually didn't do well in the armiger.

After a year of barely uncovering half of what Desmond had smuggled out of the facility all those years ago, and whatever Clay had scanned and sent to them so they could keep copies of it— they had to give up when all their leads went cold.

_But now they might figure something out._

Cor told them everything, from the initial motive of his mission to how it landed him two children and a _baby_ , blasting their way through an MT research base.

_Granted he had never expected to meet that baby in question, again._

Though he was glad he did.

"And that baby would be me, right, Marshal?" The blond, _Prompto Argentum_ , the baby Desmond and Clay found in the facility.

"Indeed, Argentum,"

It was a relief knowing he had grown fine all in all. He offered the blond a small smile that he eagerly returned and they each grabbed a stack from the table.

They poured through all the documents from the prince's armiger and yet…

Not a single trace of those two.

Recording, photographs, footage, and more and more documents.

Nothing on partial destruction, of fire that melted through anything with a mind of its own, of a child that could overrun each and any lock, no stolen aircraft, no stolen documents.

Nothing.

Nothing on them but there were _things_ — worrying things.

Ignis tossed his papers over the table with a sigh, "With a… _hazard_ such as them— there must have been countless of documents in there— though I’d be a lot more worried about these"

These, being the translated glyphs.

“The Wallbreaker and Diamond Weapon in ancient solheimian” Noctims mumbled while reading it, “Did you manage to get anything on this?"

Cor rubbed at his face tiredly, they had looked over these for _years_ and had gotten nothing.

"Not a thing, Clay tried hacking into their servers but nothing in there,"

"Well yeah, the only way to access the important stuff is from a direct line, meaning he’d have to go back and plug from there,"

Prompto handed Cor some papers and a cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach with every line he read. A device that could disable a King’s magic, disable the new Wall and leave them all exposed for the Empire to pour through.

The new Wall was both the first and last line of defense in Insomnia, with the Kingsglaive mostly outside of the wall they wouldn’t be able to call them back on time in the event of such a thing.

He passed them to Clarus who in turn passed them to His Majesty,

A device that can and will render them defenseless, the glaive, the guards, and the king and prince alike.

Just what could they say when faced with that? Sure, they all knew hand to hand combat and carried a weapon outside the armiger, but a lot of the glaive and guard rely heavily on their King’s magic.

“How does it work and how do we stop it?”

Cor looked at Prompto expectantly, the fact that they had managed to go through… _everything_ , meant they managed to disable it right?

“Truth be told, we have no idea on how it works, and we just… struck it with a sword at the time so...”

So they were clueless on that.

Clarus let out a breath, “Well if that worked once I don’t see why we can’t go for that twice,”

“Well— there’s nothing wrong with keeping it classic,”

_Regis and Clarus were taking this a bit too easy._

Cor sighed, Mors save him— sometimes he wanted to slap some more caution into the late King’s son.

Noctis explained to them the situation at the time, how the daemons had swarmed the capital and they had to fight their way through without magic or weapons.

Which, weak as the daemons were, it proved out to be quite a challenge without the means to defend themselves. In the end it had been thanks to acquiring His Majesty’s sword and making use of the Ring of the Lucii that they even made it that far.

“According to this” he flipped through the pages until he found the test sheets, “The first trial is scheduled for March 13th, 750— two years from now on, during a night raid on Formouth Garrison, marked as a ‘Success’”

“So we just have to blast it that day? Put an end to it before it begins” Gladio grabbed another set of papers as he spoke.

Going through it all again, with soldiers less experienced in fighting daemons, no weapons, shields or healing magic would be suicide.

“And how do you say we ‘blast it’—” _Gladiolus_ — seems like a decade of fighting has only strengthened those _rushed_ ways of his, always taking the fight head-on without planning beforehand. 

“—Only the kingsglaive have seen any battle as of late and they are heavily dependent on His Highness’ magic,” the young man straightened under his gaze all tense in that ‘scolded child’ manner, “and if what these documents say it’s true, if we send both the glaive and any of you, it won’t matter if you don’t have means to defend yourselves— much less fight,”

Sure, that brought down the mood by quite a bit, but if they did as they wanted to, it would be a massacre.

“And I’m not going to let His Highness go alone,” he pointedly looked at Noctis, who looked like he was ready to say just that, “ _And I’m not letting His Majesty do it either,_ ”

_Regis looked ridiculous sulking but he was not letting the King go in a suicide mission._

_Ten years his ass_ , he’ll double— no, _triple_ their collective training and the prince is not skipping his strategy training.

“So getting more information will be our best chance,” Clarus sighed, and flipped through the pages, “That would mean to either intercept the information hours before the test—”

“— Or issue a trip to Gralea— might as well write them a declaration of war and sign it myself”

No one said anything to that because the King was right. While Niflheim was less than subtle about their advances into lucis, they didn’t have the firepower to repel them.

Taunting them with sudden incursions into their territory wasn’t wise.

Clarus turned to Cor as he spoke, “And the kingsglaive stealth team has just formed out last month,” 

_Stealth team,_ barely five people— weak in all forms of magic but cloaking and low-grade illusions, with a couple exceptions. They were still children in any case. 

”They still aren’t out of training either, so no luck,” There were some teams that they could use but they had no intel they could freely give out.

There were some more ideas, like Noctis proposing going himself with an escort, but they all rejected the idea.

Then they wanted to bomb the MT Facility where the research was being completed, but that would mean planting the bombs with a foot team and making the trip by sea and land on foreign territory.

A tactic they had tried several times in the time of King Mors before the man called back those missions— they had lost too many good men.

“Can’t we just steal an aircraft and fly over there?” Noctis grumbled from where he was _plastered_ against Prompto with half his body over him.

“Because none of us _knows_ how to drive an aircraft” Ignis, from where he was _plastered_ against Gladiolus on the other end of the sofa.

If the amount of _evidence_ they had scattered over the room hadn’t been enough, their sudden change in attitude and manners was certainly enough to convince him they were different people.

Honestly, their whole dynamic was so… _physical_ now, it was strange.

“How hard can it be?” the young prince sulked down burrowing into the couch.

“You are not driving an aircraft, you can barely drive on land,” Ignis wasn’t holding back it seemed.

“Agreed”

“Agreed”

Nor were Gladiolus and Prompto apparently. The prince had a look of utter betrayal now from where he was slowly sinking between Prompto and the couch.

At least he wasn’t as bad as _Regis_.

_They certainly wouldn’t have made it if he was as bad as Regis._

Clarus perked up suddenly making everyone give him a strange look, “How about sending Alpha then, _”_

Alpha team, the team under Desmond’s and Clay’s command. 

“What’s Alpha?” Prompto shuffled closer much to Noctis’ displeasure the prince had no choice but to sit up properly.

Alpha was the _public_ name _,_ Desmond’s idea, _since using the original name would have been a bit..._

Suddenly all eyes were on him and Clarus had a _hideous_ smirk on his face while Regis looked far too smug for his own fucking sake. Cor cleared his throat giving those too _a look_.

“Alpha is the team under Desmond’s and Clay’s command,” Ignis looked like he made a mental note of it while the rest looked _mildly_ interested now.

“—What the public and the glaive and guard know is that they’re a team that operates directly under me,”

“But that clearly isn’t the case if you’re telling us,” Ignis straightened and met his eyes with suspicion.

“Indeed, in truth, they don’t answer to any of us,” Ignis made a sound like he choked while Noctis actually _choked_ suddenly going into a coughing fit, while Gladio and Prompto just stared at him blankly.

Cor wasn’t so nice as to let them process the implications of it.

_Regis wasn’t either it seemed._

“It’s a facade, my child, much like the name, though we don’t know much about the reason the both of them clearly had put out a lot of thought into it,”

“A powerful organization that operates on their own with our intel, but not our command— the Assassins,”

Cor pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of them before sending it to Desmond with a short message.

‘Told them about it’ and added a snickering sticker of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also laaate chapter I'm so sorry, I think this week imma post another chapter so <3


	10. ANNOUNCEMENT: GOING ON HIATUS FOR A WHILE

So, well, I'm going through a kind of hard slope in life right now. I'm facing some difficulties along with my family what with one of us in the hospital, plus there's the quarantine issue that's finally getting to me, plus I got two exams and three projects due next week and some more in the week after that and I haven't been able to focus or rest and right now all of my creative juice is going into all of those things and I'm really sorry that I haven't been updating as regularly as I did before because of all that's been going on.

I'm really sorry guys, like, really deeply sorry for like leaving this as it is right now—just as I was starting to get really hyped for the next parts too.

But I really need some time to blank myself over the next few days so that I can take on my projects and hopefully cope a little better.

Sorry, again.

Also thanks so much to all of you who have stayed with me so far, this was my first updated work even though I've worked some more— and all the support and the comments really made my days so much brighter!

Soryy, and thank you guys, see y'all soon!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, sorry for the delay

Clay totally saw this coming.

Yep— these past few years had been too damn calm for the both of them, _of course_ something like this was going to go and happen.

Something like this being the little prince and his friends turn out to be magical time travelers that come from a dystopian future in which everything has long since gone to hell.

Starting with Niflheim winning the war and slaughtering the citizens of Insomnia, unleashing daemons and somehow speeding the incubation time of starscourge, which— _apparently_ , turns people into fucking daemons.

And somehow that was one of the lesser problems.

So the little king traveled far and wide with the help of his little friends as he sought his _fiancee_ , only for her to be murdered by Niflheim since they had no more use for princess Lunafreya, a.k.a The Oracle.

Then Ignis gets robbed of his sight by some assholes who live in the King's ring, and they go on their merry way to kill Emperor Aldercapt.

"So, littl— _Ahem_ , Noctis. So Noctis," Clay starts because maybe it'll sink in faster if he says it out loud, "get's trapped for a decade inside the crystal behind the throne room, then gets out, fights for days to get into the ruins of the city—"

"Kills Adagium, Ardyn Izunia, formerly known as Chancellor Izunia of Niflheim, and dies in the process," Cor supplies from the wall he's leaning against by the massive gate that serves as a door for the throne room.

And, honestly, Clay should probably find this a bit harder to believe.

But since he and Desmond are kind of… _the same_ , he guesses that helps. It definitely helps, since he can actually start to think how much time do they have until everything goes to shit.

"So about Six years from now on?" He asks Ignis, who is now looking at him like he wants to strap him into a chair and make him spill everything he knows and doesn't know.

"Yes, more or less" Ignis narrowed his eyes at him before shifting his attention to somewhere else Clay had no idea what it was.

Gladiolus is giving Desmond the same treatment while Prompto— Bless his pure little soul, is trying to get them to tone it down on the stinky-eye. He hasn't done much progress but they aren't looking at them like they are planning to dissect them anymore. They are just looking at them like they _want to dissect them._

Not that Desmond would let them— strap them, Desmond wouldn't let them because they both have had enough strapping and torturing and had enough people strap them into tables and rip the truth and secrets out of them.

Besides they also have Cor on their side and Regis as far as Eagle Vision can supply him, though it's not all accurate and sensitive like Desmond's. Clay can only see like, the _default colors_. Blue is an ally. Red is an enemy, white is irrelevant, gold is important. Oh and decoding of long lost, completely understudied ancient language.

Was he forgetting something?

Oh right.

The part that said that they didn't exist last time they were around. Made it sound like restarting a game and finding some secret DLC characters. 

_Right_.

"That's why Noctis was a bit… _unsettled_ , last time around," Regis sighed at that from where he was sitting on his throne, the man looked like _hell_ — well, even more so than usual, the man looked like what Desmond had ended up looking like when he fell into that coma and got put under the animus. His eyes were droopy and his face and _everything_ was tense with exhaustion, Clay should probably give the old King another magic charge just to be sure.

Before they left.

If they left on good terms.

And they had asked him a question before telling them all of this. What was the question again? Something about—

"So, I will ask again— Who are you two in reality? Because _no one_ this powerful ever shows up in Insomonia unless they are trying to _kill us_ " Fair point. Noctis' eyes were cold as he raked them over them from where he was sitting in one of the councilmen chairs, and Clay felt his skin prickle up under the waves of energy that crashed against him, how was Desmond so calm about this?

It felt like they were about to be judged by theirs and their ancestors' sins when looking at them all like this. Being looked down like this wasn't _nice_.

Also, _yeah_ , this kid didn't sound like the whiney prince they had been dealing with for well past a decade now. 

"Well?" He cocked a brow at them that actually made him stand straighter.

 _Yeah_.

This kid sounded like a King.

“Yes, well— um, Desmond? C’mere for a second. Clay put an arm around Desmond and pulled him to whisper in his ear because they kind of didn't really have time to think of… _anything_ in the elevator ride, " _So, what the fuck do we do?_ ” Desmond rose a brow at him before sighing and looking around, making Noctis and Regis tense up which in turn made Ignis, Gladio and Prompto tense up— which made Cor and Clarus tense up—

Which made Clay tense up.

Desmond just grabbed his hand and gave it a little squeeze that actually helped settle down his long-forgotten fear of being tortured to answer questions he didn't know the answer to. A rather specific fear.

Desmond put his hand in the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together and damn it if it didn't help everytime Clay got into one of his… _moods_.

They stayed like that for a bit longer until Clay could feel the daggers the prince's entourage was throwing at their backs.

“Well… I guess… we come out,” Desmond sighed and stretched his hand out while looking straight into Noctis' eyes before moving onto Regis'. Clay doesn't know what Desmond _saw_ in there but it seemed to be enough for him.

The wave of power washed over them in seconds, Noctis tensed up and Clay felt the prince's own magic crash in the middle.

And for a wild second Clay thought that the prince would try to challenge Desmond into a— _a what? A magic duel?_ — are those a thing? Well, something like that just by the sheer amount of magic they were both pouring.

Regis, thank fuck he was here. The man put a hand over Noctis' and Ignis' shoulders and gave him a squeeze that seemed to do the trick, Clarus just stood a bit straighter and Gladiolus sort of followed suit and Prompto… _well, Prompto._

Cor walked over to him and gave him an awkward pat on the back and Prompto— _heavens above, bless the sweet brat—_ threw him such a grin that passed over to _Cor_.

Clay would tease him about that blush later.

Cor stepped back and walked down the flight of stairs to stand at the gate.

Once they all seemed to have settled down _as much as they were going to settle down in lieu of current events,_ Clay took it as his cue to place his hand over the _Apple_ Desmond took out of the armiger.

_'Human mind turned code— turned human again… who knew it would come in handy'_

Clay mused while his brain got to work on making the Apple do what he wanted it to do.

Well— no, that wasn't quite correct, only Desmond could control the thing after all, what with the sheer amount of _Isu cocktail_ in his blood. Clay was more of a conduit at this point honestly, Desmond had an intuitive control over the damned thing sure, but there were certain commands that were more easily unlocked by someone with techy knowledge.

"—it's a rather long story, ol— _err_ , _The Marshal_ would know how long and honestly half of isn't really that important—" Desmond was rambling most likely to give him the time he needed to set up the stupid ball so that this would go as smooth as smooth got and not, say, try and mind control everyone in the room in case it decided to give it a try. Which hadn't happened so far, but the few times they had used it wasn't in front of the King and prince and the most important generals of the country.

No pressure.

Now just a couple more lines for the code and—

"Playground ready Seventeen" was Clay good or was he _the best_. Record time too. He wasn't showing off in front of said Kind and prince— nope, not showing off at all.

… Well maybe a little.

Focus. The code wasn't in a program. It was in him. Focus.

 _"Right,"_ Desmond made a pause that lasted a breath before taking the newly coded and protected Apple from Clay and stepping forth, " _yeah._ Let's just get this over with— Cor, Clay watch the door please" his voice carried on with the acoustic of the giant throne room.

Desmond's footsteps resounded as he stepped back to the bottom of the stairs that led to the throne where Regis was sitting leaving a spreading trail of ruler-drawn golden lines in his wake.

The lines spread over to the walls, branching and splitting and mixing with numbers and glyphs Clay couldn't and somehow could make sense of. The code being kind of _him_ after all.

Desmond lifted the Apple a bit and let the glyphs and code wash over the walls in a golden brown shimmer, mapping the place so that Desmond could do his thing and blow their minds away.

"Time travelers huh…" Desmond breathed out with some amusement which— _same_ , because what were the odds of it happening? "I think we can do one better, right Sixteen?"

Clay just gave him his most eloquent hum at that. Sure they could up-it-up a bit.

They watched for a bit more as Desmond slowly started redecorating. The code and glyphs and the sheer amount of numbers slowly turned into illusions of long lost metal pillars with perfect diagonal cuts that suspended one half on top of each other using energy that could never be controlled by humans.

Desmond being the exception.

Slowly the Grand Temple came to life all around them, Desmond's newfound magic mixed with the Apple's natural predisposition to trick and twist human minds made it possible to make the entirety of the Grand Temple fit in the rather _small_ throne room. Small only by comparison of course. Both buildings were big enough as it was.

"Time travelers…" Desmond mused as the Temple settled down in the room the Apple's ethereal glow faded and dulled turning it into the useless ball it looked like. The circuits of gold shifting under him with every sway the only thing that reminded him that this was an illusion conjured from the Apple and Desmond's will… and not the dull, tense hellhole they spent the remaining of their lives in…

No. Clay. Focus. Code. Settle the code so that it won't try and mind-control everyone in the room. Desmond had full control on it but... better safe than sorry.

The throne became a rusted, time-worn table and the chairs slowly fickered into rubble making the rest stand up to walk and have a look around.

Pipes and cables crackled weakly under their feet and Clay is sure he caught a glimpse of Minerva's hologram by one of the balconies. Two of the power sources were in place and the third one was in Desmond's hand letting out a soft blue-green glow.

Perfect rectangles that couldn't fight the passing of time adorned the walls, what rubble there was, was still as clean-cut as everything else. For the most part, no destruction could be perfect after all.

The floor crumbled by their sides and became a bridge that loomed over _infinite_ nothingness.

Behind them a very familiar barrier flickered to life and Clay took it as his cue to lead a gawking Cor so that the both of them could stand next to Desmond by the other end of the bridge. They didn't need to worry about the door honestly, it was more of a formality.

Cor had a certain shine in his eyes as he followed Clay to the beginning of the stone bridge. There was recognition in the man's eyes as he took in the sight.

Computers and more familiar-looking cables and crates began rendering next, chairs, foldable tables, lights, the coffee machine…

The animus in its hell chair, with all the cables and IVs and what not too. Looking the part of the mind breaking machine it was.

Then came the noises, the birds outside and inside the temple, the whirring of the machines and the humming of the energy sources and the barrier by the end of the hall and there was something of a low skin-crawling hum that Clay couldn't quite place.

The crackling of electricity and the dripping water somewhere by the entrance, clanking against a puddle and echoing all around.

Finally it came the cold. Chilling to the bone in a way that made Clay's hair stand at the back of his neck, there was a raft of wind coming from someplace up high, a hole in one of the least accessible rooms most likely.

And behind them, the Eye as imposing as it had been probably always.

Noctis began walking around looking over everything in a mix of suspicion and amazement, Ignis walked close by his side as they began to explore the construct. Gladio and Prompto followed suit while Clarus helped Regis from the rather high table he was sitting on top of.

Noctis made his way in front of Desmond and gave the Apple a suspicious look but didn't make a move to touch it. Which, _probably for the best._

"What is this place?" His voice carried on farther than in the throne room as he tried to look at everything at once and yet keep his eyes on them, "Doesn't look Solhemian... or like Angelard"

Their footsteps echoed as they made their way to the foot of the bridge. Their eyes shone with suspicion and keen interest.

"That's because it isn't Solhemian… or a _godly construction," Not really a godly construction,_ Desmond left out. The Isu, try as they might, were no gods. Just another race of hyper-advanced assholes, "It's a Temple… _from our world,"_

Now _that_ brought some frowns, even Regis and Clarus were looking a bit disbelieving and Ignis even let out a huff at that.

" _Your world?_ Not sure I'm following _Desmond,_ " Gladio sounded like he wanted to spit the bitterness out as he walked slowly around them.

Desmond just hummed at that, giving his best apologizing look to him, "Yeah, guess not… though you do claim coming from the future so" he got an eye roll for that, then a nod. Point taken. The Apple started emitting some light again and then there were shapes— humanoid shapes— forming around them, by the animus near the computer, by the barrier another more— _walking by the bridge._

And finally there was one sitting in the stone slate that was trying to mimic a chair, the painted metal backrest with the red accents and tinkling red lights around the sides of his head. An IV line hooked into the arm that rested on the single armrest of the machine.

There was no doubt as _who_ was sitting there.

Not after Desmond pulled his hood off at least.

"The greatest temple the Isu ever made," he began as he walked around to stand by the animus. The shapes became clearer and soon enough they could see the older version of Desmond breathing steadily in the chair with Rebecca checking her screens and monitoring his state.

Shaun was by the barrier cursing at the thing for refusing to open and William was sulking by the halls, no doubt thinking in other ways to get himself _kidnapped—_ after all, if the Sun fried them all that would mean the Templars would be long gone too.

"—appropriately named _The Grand Temple_ , the Isu, an advanced but long since dead race, tried to make it their last refuge to protect themselves and the humans they created, "Clay could almost hear the _Shaun-tone_ in his voice. 

"Protect themselves? _"_ Regis walked up to him with confusion written all over his face and honestly Clay couldn't blame him.

The room turned to red and gold hues then as a transparent screen appeared behind them showing a glowing _burning_ fire amidst the stars.

"Is that the Sun?" Prompto walked over to the screen and tried to touch it, just for his fingertips to pass through the thing and making him jolt a bit.

 _"Damn…"_ Gladiolus winced at the image, one didn't need to be an astronomer to figure that the sun wasn't supposed to look this _red and just outfight toxic_.

" _Hmm_ , yes. Though a lot more radioactive and hotter than it should be. The Isu were wiped out along with most species on Earth by the waves of radiation and fire that came from the Sun some hundreds of thousands years ago," he explained the screen showing some familiar-looking images, probably shown to Desmond by Minerva and Jupiter, of Isu and human alike burning down to ashes, the shield that covered the skies fragmented after it failed to hold the first of the many waves that crashed against the ground.

"Wiped out? That cannot be—"

"They didn't go without a fight though," Clay mused, because something as stubborn as an Isu could never go down without a fight— _ask Juno_ , "a small part of scientists survived and after making lots of calculations they concluded that no matter what they did they would die before the one thing that could actually operate the device they built even came to life— long story short: they uploaded their _consciousnesses_ into temples like this, hoping to lead whichever sentient and cognitive species survived and evolved enough to be able to operate them, by leading I mean _controlling_ because that’s how entitled the bastards were… _though they already had a candidate in mind…"_

Desmond rolled his eyes at him and gave him an incredulous look. Well, they wanted the whole story, didn't they?

"Hold on," Ignis' voice echoed dryly in the makeshift space, "Surely you don't expect us to believe all of _this",_ he waved vaguely at the temple in general, "Solar explosions, a highly technological ancient race dating back probably _millions_ of years is just—" Ignis cut himself short and stared at Desmond with confusion on his face.

The face Desmond was making… Clay could almost see Ezio and the old Altaïr standing there.

It could pass for amusement with the little curve in his lips— if not for the _soul-deep_ tiredness in his eyes.

So Clay did the only thing that he knew to do and grabbed Desmond's hand and rubbed his thumb against it. Then brought it up to press his lips against his knuckles because he couldn't, for the life of his, think of anything else to do right now.

Dead silence.

Clay couldn't give a smaller _fuck_ about dead silence now.

Desmond gave him a squeeze and brought Clay's hand over to his _ever soft_ lips.

Any other day they would have shoved at each other for being _corny_ like this.

But not every day did they have to publicly revive and display their old miserable lives like a bad produced movie.

"We don't have to do this— _You don't have to do this…"_ Clay stepped a bit closer to rest his chin over Desmond's shoulder and rubbed his thumb over the back of Desmond's hand.

Desmond sighed before squeezing back.

His face looked a bit better but the tiredness was still there. Desmond looked at him in the eyes and if Clay wasn't already head-over-heels for him he might have swooned.

His eyes were so pretty when they glowed.

"I know… but I want to," 

Desmond wanted. Clay wasn't going to deny him.

 _"Fine."_ Clay stayed like that for another second before turning his stare towards Ignis, "We are coming clean. Listen or not, believe it or not—" he took a shaky breath and let it out harshly, " _You are not the only ones that have died"_

Now that did it.

If the silence was dead before, now it was six-feet under with flowers on top.

"Highness if I may," Cor walked up to them and stood between Noctis and themselves.

Noctis looked taken aback but nodded anyway with a suspicious look.

"Noct, do you trust me?" Clay had no idea where Cor was going with this but it was a good break for him and Desmond.

Noctis looked even more confused than before with his brows brought to his hairline as he blinked a few times.

"Ah, well— _Yes?_ I mean you did kind of follow us to hell and back so it's kind of hard not to..." Noctis looked around for help but all he received were equally confused glances and a mouthed _'no clue'_ from Prompto.

"Then, would you trust me when I tell you that I would trust _them_ with yours and your father's lives?" Cor's _seriousness was..._

Clay wanted to pull his hood back now. If only to hide the creeping blush crawling over his face. This blatant displays of _trust_ weren't his thing.

Instead, he stepped to the side and used Cor's frame to cover himself and his pride.

Too bad for Desmond, Clay got the good hiding spot.

Noctis' face went through a frown, eye-opening shock and then utter confusion in the lapse of a few seconds.

Gladiolus', Ignis' and Prompto's did something similar before they settled in plain, straight baffled.

"I— err, wait. You… _you. Cor._ Of all people. You—" Noctis sounded like he might _choke_ from how he couldn't finish whatever he wanted to say. Gladiolus seemed to have his words in better order as he stepped up.

"Wait a second Marshal… Are you serious right now?" His eyes were narrowed in suspicion as he glanced between Cor and them, "Then that puts them..."

He spared a glance towards Clarus and it all clicked in for Clay.

Wasn't today full of surprises?

"Indeed, I trust them with his Majesty's life as I trust Clarus… and as I will come to trust you with Noctis' life."

Or trust them. Since they came from the future.

Semantics.

That was a lot more responsibility than what Clay ever wanted to have when it came to the royal family.

On the same level as the King's Shields…

All they needed was to pass the final exam and they could apply for the position. If only said final exam wasn't beating this Behemoth of a man. They probably could.

"They may not have the same amount of proof you carried with you" Cor continued, "But trust me— they carry enough"

There was a long silence after that before Ignis let out a long heavy sigh.

"Very well. But we'll be the judges of that," and then gave them one of his judging looks, with the narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

Gladiolus let out a huff of air and looked at Noctis, "So, what do you say _highness_?"

The little prince seemed to weigh his options before nodding and going off onto one of the pieces of rubble to sit on top of.

"So… guess we hear them out,"

So that was that.

So they all got comfortable on top of wherever they could, Clarus and Cor helped up Regis and Desmond discreetly put a slightly smaller and lighter cube so that Regis could rest his leg on.

"Um, say… _Desmond?_ " Prompto's voice echoed softly from where he was perched on top of a high pillar, "What's _that_?"

 _That_ being the Apple.

So Clay stepped up, because this was as much his as it was Desmond's.

" _That_ — is one of the two reasons why we died," Desmond gave him an eye roll like he was the dramatic one between the two.

Starting off on the fun stuff.

"So this thing is an artifact made by the Isu to control our _inferior human minds_ —well all mind's except Desmond's… though no need to worry, the Isu that got inside the _thing_ is dead"

Dead, for all terms and purposes.

* * *

They went through it all. Starting from Desmond's kidnapping and capture at Abstergo, skimming through the centuries of history that led to it happening.

The Cult of Cosmos, The Order of the Ancients, The Templar Order— the two new orders a courtesy of Bayek and Aya, Cassandra and Alexios— they went through it all.

Through Clay's joining into the modern Assassin Brotherhood and their fight against the templars, through his infiltration into Abstergo, death of his body but his mind's transference into Desmond's through the Animus.

Went through the hunt for the Pieces of Eden, how the Templar's wanted them to put the world under their control, as such achieving the old human desire for peace.

How the modern Assassins looked for the Pieces so that they could keep them away from Templar hands, safeguarding freedom of all.

Went through the hell that was the animus. How it twisted and broke minds as it allowed the subjects to revive the memories deep within their blood.

Went through Desmond relieving the months of Altaïr's life, decades of Ezio's and years of Connor's. How he found messages from the Isu, how their hunt for the Pieces of Eden changed and became one to find more about the threat the Isu spoke of in their holograms.

Desmond's coma and meeting with Clay in the Animus, how Clay saved Desmond from being deleted by the Animus' code and went back inside his mind.

Then Desmond let the recording of the Grand Temple play. And they all watched as he stood behind the impenetrable wall next to the Eye, Rebecca and Shaun pounding on it while William looked everywhere for a nook to get inside.

Then they all watched him burn.

With his screams resounding all over the temple as the device consumed him in flames, boiled him alive.

Then came the earthquakes as the shield activated and the sun's fire came crashing against it. Rebecca and Shaun ushered William out as the Temple began falling down, as they started off their escape because Abstergo was now on their heels.

Desmond burned for a long time.

Then the lights dimmed back down and the Temple returned to how Desmond made it in the beginning.

There was a long silence after that, Cor came to stand next to them and placed his hands on their shoulders and held them like that for a while.

Most of them had looked away from the scene after a while, Clay had been tempted too but… he stood with Desmond.

They moved on.

Onto the Order, the Brotherhood.

"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted," Ignis scoffed, "sounds like an ode to anarchy—"

"Perhaps," Desmond said with a contemplating look and a gentle smile, "But not quite—" Desmond looked to the side as a figure stepped through effectively cutting them all off.

Ezio's glimmering ghost waltzed from behind one of the pillars and pulled back his hood, revealing his always uncanny resemblance to Desmond.

"Nothing is true, is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile, and that we must be the shepherds of our own civilization," his voice was rich and thick as he spoke, changing in tone as his figure rippled until his skin and robes had aged to that of an old man, but his eyes were still as vibrant as they had been when he was in his prime, "To say that everything is permitted, is to understand that we are the architects of our actions, and that we must live with their consequences, whether glorious or tragic,"

"—Recognize that laws do not arise from divinity, but reason" Altaïr's voice rang from up high, his hood and shadows covered most of his face but it was clear who Desmond took after with just one glance.

"To work in the shadows," came out as Bayek's voice, before Aya's joined him, "And to kill only those who deserve it"

One by one they either appeared or spoke.

"From this day, no Hidden One will raise a sword against an innocent. So it shall be written"

"We fight for freedom, with these chains that we attach to ourselves,"

"All that we do, all that we are, begins and ends with ourselves,"

"The creed carries on, even if its people do not,"

"For if nothing is true, then why believe anything? And if everything is permitted... why not chase every desire?"

They felt it again, ripples of raw, unburdened power, coming out from the prince, no doubt being now on high suspicion of them while being surrounded by countless hooded figures.

The ghosts then began moving some of them just flickered into bursts of gold and jade. The ones that remained either went to Desmond… or to Clay. Disappearing as soon as they got too close, in sparks of light.

Altaïr, much to Clay's obvious surprise and discomfort, had gone over and just walked through him. 

His body moved on his own as he went to stand in front of their audience, even Desmond froze to the spot.

Clay extended his hand a single, old, faded piece of paper flickered in jade sparks.

"Though I ask my brothers now to abandon their rituals," he began, but his voice sounded less than his own and raspier, deeper, "I do not ask that they abandon the Creed. This is what makes us Assassins. Not the removal of a finger. Not a false promise of paradise. Not the prohibition of poison" It took him a long time to recognize the lines, it was from Altaïr's Codex, the one Ezio had spent so long tracking and rebuilding, rewriting as to try and preserve for the future, "Our duty is to the people, not to custom" and that it was Altaïr's voice speaking and not his own.

After a long pause Clay just huffed, _“I wish they stopped doing that_ — _ugh,”_ ghosts of long-dead assassins had no respect for any kind of personal space.

While Clarus and Regis seemed to have more trouble processing all the new information, no doubt from the clash of personal ethics and beliefs, the last part seemed to make something in them settle.

On the other side, Ignis seemed to have an even harder battle going on inside his head, while Gladio just had a slight frown plastered on his face.

Prompto was rubbing his fingers over his chin in that way he did when he had something on his mind.

And Noctis was… thoughtful.

The ghosts were gone by now, the Grand Temple lost that magical, mystic shimmer and went back into looking like the alien ruins it was.

"Do you plan on bringing your Order into Insomnia then?" Noctis straightened on the slab where he sat, his eyes had an icy hue as he looked at them, "build a Brotherhood and do… what exactly?"

Clay almost wished the question was harder. Over the years they had debated on whether to leave the Kingsglaive and becoming part of the Hunters, the organization from beyond the Walls. Whether they should just go into Niflheim, into Gralea and just lay Emperor Aldercapt to rest.

But even with Apple and their newfound magic…

They were just two men.

Two men against an Empire, against tens of thousands of soldiers, against dozens of hundreds of machines, against the daemons of the night…

They wanted to live the peaceful lives they had been denied.

But they wanted to fight too.

To find a place to belong.

Make a place to belong...

"We want to build it," Desmond said next to him as Clay reached for his hand, needing something to hold onto, "We want to build it and help put an end to this war,"

They were tired of fighting wars that would never end.

“Why? Why fight a war that has nothing to do with you?” Gladiolus' tone had that ring of frustrated confusion.

"Because if what you say it's true," he continued, "then this war between Lucis and Niflheim can come to an end, and…" he made a pause and gave Clay a squeeze and Clay squeezed back.

"We would like to see it this time, what the world looks like once the war is done,"

They want to live in this world, do what they want, travel where they want— not just exist as some little peons in the bigger picture.

Clay wants to live. He's pretty sure Desmond wants to live too.

The illusion of the Grand Temple faded out the walls and holos became dust that scattered in the air and then they were back into the throne room.

Regis was actually sitting back in his seat with Desmond's bag under his foot, Gladiolus and Ignis were both resting half their weight on the sides of two of the councilmen chairs. Prompto was perched on the high backrest of Noctis' chair. And Cor was by the stairs leaning against the wall.

Clarus was the first to speak after a long pause, "I think… we all could use some time to take everything in before moving forward,"

No one objected, because— yeah. It was a lot to take in.

Noctis remained slumped on his seat with a slight frown while Regis looked quite more tired than before.

Clay stepped up to the throne and Regis gave him a scowl but stretched his weakened leg anyway.

After a quick infusion of healing magic to help speed up the regeneration of cells and numb the discomfort somewhat, he went back to Desmond and they bowed out.

Before the doors closed he heard someone groan and then a sharp "Just. Go."

And then Cor was out of the door jogging up to them.

And they exchanged some tired smiles before Desmond spoke.

"I. Need a drink."

Fucking preach.

"My place, the King has dismissed us for today," Cor placed a hand on the backs and lightly pushed them towards the elevator, "I'm driving,"

It was a quiet ride, Clay fell asleep Desmond's head resting over his lap.

Desmond’s bike would sleep in the Citadel then.

* * *

Desmond had been awake for about an hour now if the alarm clock on the night table was to be trusted.

Clay was still curled up next to him with his leg slung over his waist and his arms around his torso.

His head was still pleasantly numb from the night before.

It started off pretty tame, they just wanted to take the edge off after the show they had put on. 

Desmond hadn't been expecting the whole _assassin-ghost-fest_ and honestly he kind of wanted to punch Ezio and Altaïr for it.

Though since all was good— _for now_ ,— he was going to keep wanting to punch them. Instead of punching them. For now.

Cor had known most of the story… but they hadn't really gone this graphic on him before so it was quite a shock.

As the night went on and the raw alcohol began to get boring Clay egged Desmond into making them cocktails.

And then it escalated from then.

Cor had brought out his mixing kit and he and Desmond had a bit of a bartending duel that Desmond won because he knew his bit of flair bartending.

And because he didn't set the bar counter on fire, though he did put it out. He had been so drunk by then he forgot he could just _call_ the flames back into him—and froze the counter instead.

After that they agreed they had too much to drink. Cor helped him toss Clay into the guest room and then bade them goodnight.

Was that thing unfrozen by now? He'll check it out in a bit.

If it was frozen he could maybe make a smoothie out of the innocent fruits caught in the mess.

 _"By the Six that was a bad idea"_ Desmond's eagle vision turned on just in time to see Cor's deep dark, _miasmatic_ figure passing by the room clutching to the wall for dear life and grabbing his head like it was going to fall off if he let go of it.

No smoothie then.

Desmond carefully pried himself from Clay's grip and made a trip to the bathroom to stock up on the painkillers Cor no doubt forgot were there.

Cor was sitting by the— thankfully— unfrozen bar counter and made a noise when Desmond turned the tap and poured him some water in glass before offering him the pills.

Cor swallowed two of them with a loud gulp and slowly set down the glass.

"How are you even still fine after all that… _poison_ — _ugh,"_ Cor grumbled and brought his hand back to his head.

"Freaky alien genes, remember? Sure come in handy sometimes," Desmond said while going through the cabinets and fridge, the yogurt and fruits sounded like a good place to start, some coffee too, maybe toast, the toaster was silent enough…

"... guess so." Cor looked at him with a tired frown for a bit before looking at the yogurt, "I'm taking you out to the drinking contest by the northern avenue, I lost money on a bet last time there. I want it back"

Desmond snorted and rolled his eyes at the _grimace_ Cor was trying to pass for a smirk, "Is that an order, _Marshall?_ "

"Yes. I'm going to place a huge bet on you over there," they played around like that for a while as the painkillers kicked in.

Desmond diced the fruit and tossed it on top of the yogurt with some honey and dried fruits he found in the pantry.

By then Cor had already moved from the counter stools and onto the huge couch in the living room.

The thing would look ridiculous if Cor wasn't a 6'3" titan. As it was, with the man laid on it propped up on the armrest and with his legs bent over it the couch almost looked normal.

Almost.

Desmond put the bowls on the coffee table and looked around for somewhere to sit. Either on the other end of the couch or on the fancy sofa.

Or… _no._

_No, he was too old for that. About three decades too old and then some if Ezio's years counted._

"Just come here and stop thinking so hard about it," Cor made some space and beckoned him over and Desmond decided to _stop thinking for a while_.

And crawled on top of him.

It took a bit more shifting but they managed to get comfortable. Desmond rested his cheek over his chest with his right hand stretched over Cor's shoulder and his left arm curled around the man's waist.

Cor lowered his arm and placed it over his forearm and…

_Yeah. It helped._

They stayed like that for a while, Cor just rubbed nonsense circles and breathed under him and Desmond was trying to count the seeds of the strawberries placed on top of the yogurt.

"What's troubling you child?" Under the soft tone there was concern mixed in.

Desmond just hummed and hoped Cor would forget he even asked.

But that wasn't going to happen.

"What's going to happen now?" He sighed and burrowed himself. They were out and clean, had told as much of the truth as they could. But was it the best thing to do?

Cor stayed quiet for a bit before he moved his hand to pet Desmond's hair, it was getting long again, and curling all over.

"I think… maybe we'll have to change the date of the camping trip,"

Desmond craned his neck to give him a _face_ before huffing, _"I'm serious Cor, we—"_

"As am I— look" he shifted until they were both sitting up rather than laying down, "Nothing is going to happen to either of you,"

"You don't know that" No one did. Because they weren't supposed to be in this world. The prince and Regis could decide that he and Clay were a lot more insane than what they had been given credit for.

Deemed too much of a threat to be kept close, too much of a volatile factor to whatever plan they were working on, _too much of a—_

"I know it, Desmond," his hand tightened on his shoulder and Desmond rose his eyes to look at him and met with piercing, icy blue, filled with conviction, "I would have left Mors service if I had deemed him unworthy, if his ways had been crooked beyond fixture. I wouldn't be under Regis' command if I didn't believe in him, if he had been nothing more than a spoiled prince that didn't understand the horrors of the war that he was trying take part in— and I wouldn't be training the prince if I didn't know he had the head in the right place, if he was just a rotten apple that had fallen far away from the tree,"

Cor knew his people.

Desmond let out a shaky breath and nodded, _"Right— yeah… sorry"_

Cor just ruffled his already ruffled curls and went to lie back down, "Don't be— here" with that Cor stretched out and passed him one of the forgotten bowls and they settled back down in the couch.

Clay waltzed in not long after slouched all over and holding his head in his palms, Desmond had left some painkillers on the counter.

" _Desmond you saint_. _Come here so I can kiss you,"_ Cor huffed out a laugh at that and Desmond just rolled his eyes.

"I'm surprised you aren't trying to cure your own headache with magic" Desmond threw back because knowing Clay he was most likely to try that.

 _"Uuugh— I tried."_ Of course he tried. Clay grunted and grabbed his bowl before making his way onto the couch and squeezing down in between them, "Didn't work. Accelerating the body's natural healing process doesn't seem to apply to alcohol-induced headaches"

Shame.

Cor also seemed a bit let down by that fact.

Win some, lose some.

So they finished up their snack and kind of _dominoed_ back on top of one another. Clay was over Cor now and Desmond was over Clay.

"We're not going to be like _exiled,_ right?" Clay asked while playing with one of his curls. Curling the strand around his finger and then letting go of it so that it returned to its original shape.

"I doubt it'll come to that," Cor was trying to straighten out Clay's mess of a mane, failing miserably, "but I have a pretty good idea on what's going to happen next"

Clay craned his neck to look at Cor and Desmond did the same, "Do enlighten us then,"

Cor huffed out a breath and threw his head back, eyes fixed in the ceiling, "If any of the lessons I taught them stuck, then we should be hearing from them in…" he glanced at the wall clock, "about three-four hours tops," Cor mused before going back to trying to tame the mess of blond hair under his chin, "and then we will be rushed in to plan a counterattack against the Empire,"

 _"Fun stuff_ , _"_ Clay sighed.

Cor and Desmond grunted in agreement.

Fun stuff indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, normalizing physical affection between platonic subjects.  
> My passion.  
> Desmond, Cor and Clay are a power trio by now I believe.  
> We be back my children.

**Author's Note:**

> So uh lemme know what yall thought about this, idk when I'll update but I know I wanna continue this.  
> Mostly out of spite tbh.


End file.
